His Favorite Melody
by tiffanyrebecca7
Summary: Melody Hudson. Not only was she an excellent assistant to the worlds only Consulting Detective, but she was one of the only people who knew exactly who he was when he thought no one was around. She was the Melody he couldn't get out of his head. His favorite Melody. Sherlock/OC
1. Welcome to Baker Street

"Mum, I tried to tidy up as well as I could, but you know how Sherlock is about his...organized chaos." Melody said, leaning against the conter in her mother's kitchen.

"Yes,well, we'll just have to let them sort it out once they've gotten settled, won't we?" Mrs. Hudson said with a smile on her face. Her daughter watched as she scurried around the room, tidying thing up here and there.

Melody was Mrs. Hudson's only child, and had agreed to come home and keep her mother company after her father had been sentenced to death. The mere thought of her father caused a shudder to run up her spine. Her father was a horrible man, and was the reason she had moved out the day after she turned eighteen.

Melody was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

"Oh! That'll be the boys!" Mrs. Hudson said excitedly. She swiftly made her way to the door. Melody followed a few steps behind. She smiled at the sound of a familiar baritone voice,and a newer, unfamiliar voice.

As the door opened, Melody saw her mother hug a tall figure with high cheekbones, a black coat, and a head of dark curls.

"Sherlock!" The older Hudson woman exclaimed joyously, throwing her arms round Sherlock.

"Mrs. Hudson. A pleasure as always." Sherlock said, patting the woman on the back before stepping back.

"This is John Watson. He's the prospective roommate I mentioned." He introduced, while John held out a hand to shake.

"Lovely to meet you dear. Come in, come in! I'll show you up to your flat!" Mrs. Hudson said, ushering the two inside. As they entered, Sherlock caught a figure caught a figure out of the corner of his eye. He stayed behind for a moment while John followed Mrs. Hudson upstairs.

"Miss Hudson. I see you've not been getting enough sleep. Maybe do something about the darkness under your eyes, it doesn't suit you." Sherlock said, observing the woman.

Melody simply sighed.

"Lovely to see you again, too, Sherlock." She said, rolling her eyes. "Shall we go upstairs, or would you like to insult me a bit more?"

Before he had a chance to retort, she went up the stairs, taking them in twos. Sherlock simply quirked an eyebrow and followed her.

Melody entered the flat, and Sherlock behind her. Her mother rushed downstairs for a moment while Mel looked around. She had to admit, the common room was fairly large and pleasant, but it was a dreadful mess, no matter how hard she tried to clean it.

Stacks of newspapers were strewn about, several computers were stacked in random places, a tumble of box files were lined along the shelves, books lay everywhere, and a terrifying collection of what looked like weapons was simply sitting out. Not to mention the fact that there was a skull on the mantlepiece.

In the adjoining kitchen, the table was crammed with testubes, and jars, and bunsen burners.

"Well! This could be very nice. Very nice indeed." John said from his standing place.

"Yes, I think so. My thoughts exactly." Sherlock agreed, lightly brushing past Melody. "So I went ahead and moved in." He said at the same time as John remarked, "Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out."

They looked at each other for a moment before John realized what was happening. Melody couldn't help but let out a small snicker as she sat herself in Sherlock's chair.

"Oh!" John exhaled, "So, this is all --"

"Obviously I can straighten things up a bit." Sherlock said, attemptingto shuffle a few papers around.

"That's a skull." John said, finally making his way to the mantlepiece.

"Friend of mine. Well I say friend..." Sherlock trailed off squinting at the woman who had taken up residence in his chair.

Mrs. Hudson finally came bustling back in, smiling as always.

"What do you think, Dr. Watson - there's another bedroom upstairs." She suggested, giving the boys a knowing look. "If you'll be needing two bedrooms."

John looked at her, a little affronted. "Well of course we'll be needing two." he said, his voice laced with confusion.

Melody simpy burst into laughter, clutching her sides at the look on John's face.

"Oh don't you worry, all sorts round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones." Mrs. Hudson said, smiling like nothing was off about what she was insinuating.

Melody finally quieted her laughter and watched as her mother began looking around.

"Oh, Sherlock, the mess you've made. Mel, I thought you tidied up."

She said, bustling into the kitchen area, tidying as she went.

"Only so much I could do without the fear of being experimented on in my sleep for moving something important." Melody said to herself.

Sherlock smirked to himself at her comment, busying himself at his desk. John eyed him thoughtfully.

After a moment, he finally spoke up. "Looked you up on the Internet last night."

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked, offhandedly.

"Found your website - The Science of Deduction." John said with a smirk.

Ahh, yes. The Science of Deduction. Melody had stumbled upon the same site not long after meeting the man. It was actually quite interesting to be honest. She enjoyed learnings about things the way Sherlock saw them.

"What did you think?" Sherlock quipped.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie, and an airline pilot by his left thumb." John said, slightly amused.

"Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and the drinking habits of your brother in your mobile phone." Sherlock said, deciding to show John just how extensive his deduction abilities were.

"How?" John said,intrigued.

Mrs. Hudson, who had been bustling about, straightening up, picked up a newspaper from the floor. "What about these suicides, then, Sherlock?" She interrupted. "Thought that would be right up your street. Three of them, exactly the same. That's a bit funny, isn't it?"

Suddenly, Sherlock's posture straightened up, staring like he sensed something in the air. Melody noticed the change, and stood up from the chair.

"Sherlock?" She asked, cautiously approaching the man.

"Four. There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time." He said, suddenly looking at her.

The small spark in his eye told her that something big was coming. And his ghost of a smile told her that she was about to be pulled right into the middle of it.


	2. The Game is On!

"A fourth? How do you know?" Mrs. Hudson inquired.

For answer, Sherlock simply pointed to the window, without breaking eye contact with Melody.

John and Mrs. Hudson looked out the window to see blue lights flashing outside - clearly a police car was parked below.

The sound of feet thumping on the stairs caused everyone to turn their attention to the doorway. Moments later, an out of breath DI Lestrade appeared.

"Where?" Sherlock asked, deciding whether he wanted to get his coat and scarf off of the rack or not.

"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens." Lestrade announced.

"What's different about this one.

You wouldn't have come to get me, if there wasn't something new." Sherlock deduced.

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did. Will you come?"

Sherlock just looked at him. He was tempted now, interested. With a quick glance at John and Melody, he made his decision.

"... Who's on Forensics?" He asked, moving to get his things.

"Anderson."

"Anderson won't work with me." Sherlock said, cringing at the thought of having to see the man at all.

"He won't be your assistant." Lestrade reasoned.

"But I need an assistant." He stressed.

Lestrade sighed. "Will you come?"

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind you."

"Thank you!"

With a cursory nod at the Hudsons and John, he was gone.

Suddenly, Sherlock let out a whoop of excitement. "Brilliant!"

He leapt right over the sofa, dashed to his desk, and started stuffing things in his pockets - his kit. Melody's head simply whipped around, following his every move.

"And I thought it was going to be a boring evening. Serial suicides, and now a note - oh, it's Christmas!" He exclaimed, before kissing Melody on the forehead.

She simply stood in shock as she watched his retreating form.

Sherlock dashed for the door without a second thought. "Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late - might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper."

"Something cold is fine. John make yourself at home - have a cuppa! Don't wait up!"He called as he bounded out the door.

John looked after him, slightly bemused, then at Melody. She was still just standing there, a dumbfounded look on her face. He chuckled and grabbed the newspaper, sitting down.

Mrs. Hudson looked at John, sympathetic.

"Oh, look at him, dashing about? My husband was just the same."

John just continued silently looking at the paper.

"But you're more the sitting down type, I can tell. I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg."

A sudden flash of anger from John caysed him to dash down the paper.

"Damn my leg!" He yelled, startling both women, the younger of which, staggered back and stared at him with wide eyes.

John was instantly in raptures of apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's just sometimes ... bloody thing."

"I understand, dear. I've got a hip. Just mind your tone around Mel. Her father, you know..." she trailed off quietly.

"A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." John said,nodding in understanding.

"Just this once, dear - I'm not your housekeeper. Melody, come along darling. Let's get you a nice cuppa as well."

John settled down on the sofa - disconsolate, annoyed at himself. If he had known it would frighten the woman like that, he would have been much more careful.

"Sherlock Holmes - who the hell is he?" He pulled his phone out of his jacket, turned it over in his hand, and examined it. "And how did he do that?"

Meanwhile, Melody and her mother were making tea, and arranging some biscuits on a tray.

"You alright, dear?"

Melody looked up at her mum. "Yeah. Yeah, just had a bit of a startle. No big deal." She said, smiling slightly. "John didn't know. I can't exactly blame the bloke." She chuckled.

Sherlock burst through the door, his eyes instantly finding Mel.

"If you really want to get better, you'll put down that cuppa and come along with me."

"Wha-how di-"

"John told me. Come on, let's go solve a murder." He said,softly. He held out a hand, which she looked at warily.

She put down her cuppa and placed her hand in his. He smiled widely and gripped her hand a bit tighter.

"Excellent. Mrs. Hudson, we will not be needing that tea. We're going out." Sherlock said, an excited glint in his eye.

"All of you?" She asked.

"Impossible suicides - four of them. No point in sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" He said, pulling Melody out of her seat.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." Mrs. Hudson giggled.

"Who cares about decent. The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!"


	3. Amateurs

The Taxi roared along the London street, fast and furious. Melody sat between the boys as the streetlights flashed past the windows.

Sherlock flicked listlessly through items on his PDA. "Okay, you've got questions!"

John and Mel looked over at the man and nodded in silent agreement.

"Where are we going?" Melody inquired.

"Crime scene, next."

"Who are you? What do you do?" John asked.

"Ahh, the million pound question. Who exactly is Sherlock Holmes? Go on, Mr. Watson. What do you think?"

Sherlock gave her a curious glance as she spoke. Melody had certainly gotten to know him and his mannerisms during the time that he assisted in her father's case. He dared say they knew eachother better than anyone else.

He thought for only a moment on her statement, before John spoke.

"I'd say you were a private detective but --"

"But?"

"The police don't go to private detectives."

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world, I invented the job." Sherlock explained.

"And quite proud of it at that." Mel chuckled quietly.

"What does that mean? Consulting Detective?" John said,trying to figure out the title.

"It means when the police are out of their depth - which is always - they consult me." Sherlock quipped.

"But the police don't consult --" John started before biting off the word. Sherlock looked sharply at him,as Melody took a sharp breath. "Amateurs." He finished.

Just the merest flash in Sherlock's eyes showed both of the people sitting with him: he didn't like that.

"Good thing he isn't an amateur then, eh?" Melody said decidedly.

"When I first met you yesterday I said, Afghanistan or Iraq? You seemed surprised." Sherlock said quickly.

"How did you know?" John said, suspicion laced in his tone.

"I didn't know. I saw. Tanned face, but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad but not sunbathing. Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military - but your conversation as you entered the room says you trained at Barts. So - army doctor. Obvious!"

Melody was greatly enjoying watching him as his mind easily picked out details. She had learned a few things from him when they spent time together, and she was getting rather good at observing things the way he did.

"Your limp is really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it - so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the circumstances of the original injury were traumatising - wounded in action then." Sherlock continued.

"Wounded in action, a suntan. Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"You said I had a therapist." John added.

"You've got psychosomatic limp, of course you've got a therapist." Sherlock concluded.

"Melody, would you like to take a swing at his brother? See what you can deduce. John, hand her your mobile phone if you would."

John hesitantly handed the woman his phone.

"Don't worry, John. I'll give it right back. Promise." She said, flipping the device around in her hands. After a few moments, she began speaking.

"Your phone is expensive. Email enabled, mp3 player, the lot. But you're looking for a flatshare, so you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then."

She looked up at Sherlock, who simply nodded for her to continue.

"There's scratches - not just one, but many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. I doubt the man beside me would treat his one luxury item like this, so there's been a previous owner." Melody said proudly. She looked again at Sherlock, who gave her a small smile.

"Well done, Miss Hudson. Now, John. Next bit's easy - you know it already."

"The engraving." John realized.

Melody once again flipped the phone over, this time, looking closer at the engraving.

'Harry Watson

From Clara

xxx'

"Harry Watson - clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father - this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live - unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to. So - brother it is." He deduced.

"Harry could be a girl's nickname, Sherlock." Melody reasoned.

"It's possible, but not likely." He decided. He looked at the phone in her lap and held out his hand. "May I?" He asked politely.

Mel nodded and handed it to him.

"Clara, who's Clara - three kisses says it's a romantic attachment, the expense of the phone says wife not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently, this model's only six months old. It's a marriage in trouble then - six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he'd probably have kept the phone - people do, sentiment - but no, he wanted rid of it: he left her. He gave the phone to you - that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help - that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his drinking-" John suddenly cut Sherlock off, mid-ramble.

"How can you possibly know about the drinking?"

"Shot in the dark - good one though. The power connection. Tiny little scuff marks all round it- Melody mentioned them before. He plugs it in every night to recharge, but his hands are shaking."

"Never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them." Melody said, her voice wavering slightly.

Sherlock tossed the phone back to John, before placing a gentle hand on Mel's leg.

"There you go, you see? You were right." Sherlock said, looking at John.

"I was right? Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs." Melody said, smiling gently at the blonde haired man.

Sherlock having made his point, was tapping away at his PDA with his free hand.

John stared at him, a little gobsmacked. "That was ... amazing."

Sherlock glanced at him - a little surprised, a little pleased. Honestly he wasn't used to that reaction - and wass really rather pleased by it.

"Do you think so?" He asked,genuinely perplexed.

"Well, of course it was. It was extraordinary. Quite extraordinary. The both of you."

"That's not what people usually say to me." Sherlock mused.

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off."

The three of them shared a laugh as the cab pulled to a stop outside of the crime scene.


	4. Catching On

As they arrived, Melody looked out the window. One of the houses had a little cluster of police vehicles outside of it, with uniformed officers going in and out.

Sherlock and John, now climbing out of the cab, Sherlock helping Melody.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked as they walked towards the entrance to the building.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago, they're getting a divorce. Harry's a drinker -- ."

"Spot on, then! Didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock interrupted.

"-- Harry is short for Harriet."

Melody's eyes lit up as Sherlock processed the information. She had been right!

John faltered to a halt, staring at the cluster of police vehicles.

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" He asked.

"Your sister." Sherlock grumbled.

"No, seriously, why are we here?" Mel asked.

"There's always something!" Sherlock cursed. Mel simply rolled her eyes at him. They were getting closer now. The scene looked so bleak and real. Sherlock lifted the tape cordon, and allowed Melody to walk under. Suddenly, a woman was blocking their path.

"Hello Freak." She said,smugly.

Melody practically growled at the woman. Where did she get off calling the most brilliant man on the planet a freak?!

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector

Lestrade." Sherlock replied, seemingly unphased by the name.

"Why?"

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look." Sherlock replied in a condescending voice.

"Well you know what I think, don't you." Sally bit.

"I think you should blow it out your bloody arse." Melody grumbled, just loud enough for Sherlock to hear her.

Sherlock bit back a snicker, but still smirked. "Always, Sally. I even know you didn't make it home last night."

Sally just looked at him, dead-eyed,apparently used to his deductions. She looked to John, who was just standing there, so out of place. Her gaze then flickered to Melody, who was slightly hidden behind Sherlock.

"Who's this?"

"Colleague of mine, Dr. Watson. Dr.

Watson, and my friend Melody Hudson-Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend."he said, sarcasm dripping in his voice at tbe last line.

"A colleague, how'd you get a colleague?? Or a friend??? A female at that." She scoffed.

"Did he follow you home?"she asked John.

"That's not far from the truth, actually." Mel reasoned.

"Look, would it be better if I just --" John started.

"No!" Sherlock objected.

Sally rose her walkie-talkie and spoke into it."Freak's here. Bringing him in."

Melody nearly leapt at the woman. Had it not been for Sherlock holding her back, the woman would be bleeding on the ground.

"Don't. She isn't worth you going to jail over." He whispered in her ear.

Mel clenched her fist and took a deep breath. "I swear, Sherlock, if she calls you that one more time, I'm going rip her teeth from her mouth." She swore.

Sherlock put an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sorely tempted to let you." He admitted quietly. Anderson strode through the front door, glowering at Sherlock.

"Anderson! Here we are again." Sherlock exclaimed in fake joy.

"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. We clear on that?" Anderson replied in his snobbish voice.

"And is your wife away for long?"

"... Don't pretend you worked that out. Someone told you that!"

"Your deoderant told me that." Sherlock replied with a satisfied grin.

"My deoderant??"

"It's for men --"

"Of course it's for men, I'm wearing it!"

"So's Seargent Donovan." Melody said, finally catching on.

A quick panicked look was exchanged between Sally and Anderson.

"Oh! And I think it just vapourised! May I go in?" Sherlock questioned.

Anderson, Red-faced blustering, tried to retaliate. Unfortunately for him, Melody was the one he decided to confront, which only irritated Sherlock further.

"You listen to me, okay. Whatever you're trying to imply --"

"I'm not implying anything - I'm sure Sally just came round for a lovely little chat, and happened to stay over." Sherlock snipped.

"And I assume scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees --" Melody added slyly.

"Right, just go in, just go in!!" Anderson glowered, then stood aside. Sherlock swept in, pulling Melody along. John, bemused, followed the pair.

"Well done, Melody. You're catching on to things rather quickly." He complimented.

"Well," she said with a proud smile, "I did learn from the best."

They traveled down a dark, narrow hallway, with peeling wallpaper. The corridor led to an open door at the end, where DI Lestrade stood, waiting for them. He was in full crime scene gear.

"I can give you two minutes."he offered as they approached.

"I may need longer."

"He'll be fine. Two minutes is ample time." Melody assured Lestrade, who simply raised a curious eyebrow. Mel shrugged and gave him a crooked smile.

Sherlock was already confidently striding past Lestrade and Mel, into the kitchen. It appeared grimy, and disused. There were a couple of uniformed policemen, and the room had been set up as an operations base for the investigation. Sherlock tossed a crime scene coverall to John.

"You'll need to put this on."

Lestrade looked at John - bemused, but pissed off.

"Who is this?"

"He's with me."

"And the girl?"

"Also with him." Melody supplied.

"No kidding. Don't suppose you're actually. ..with...him,are you?" The detective asked, noticing how close the pair were standing.

"Not that it's any of your concern, Detective Inspector," she chuckled, "but no. Sherlock and I are simply friends at the current juncture."

John started pulling on the coverall, as he registers that Sherlock and Mel are making no move to do the same.

"Ok, but who is he?"Lestrade asked, referring back to John.

"I told you - he's with me." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

John indicated to his coverall before speaking. "Aren't you two going to - ?"

Sherlock chilled him with a look, and Mel shook her head.

"Oh no, love. Sherlock never wears those, and I'll be standing outside the door. I don't particularly fancy being up close and personal with a body at the moment." She explained simply.

"Right. So where are we?" Sherlock asked, before following Lestrade up the stairs.


	5. Making Mistakes

As they approached the crime scene, Melody stayed near the back of the group. She did as she said she would, and stood outside of the room. She observed from afar, but never moved to enter the room. She blocked out the noise of the men talking as she observed, until an irritating voice intruded upon her ears.

"She's German."

Everyone glanced around to see Anderson, observing, sardonically, from the doorway.

"Rache is German for Revenge. She could be trying to tell us something."

He said, causing Mel to sigh deeply.

Sherlock, who was tapping away at his PDA, didn't even glance at him.

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sherlock said, and without looking up, reached over and closed the door neatly in Anderson's face.

Anderson looked over at Melody and huffed,crossing his arms over his chest.

"She's German." He insisted.

"Of course she's not German, you absolute nitwit." She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. "Don't try to be clever. It doesn't suit you." She suggested.

"How would you know whether she was or wasn't?" Anderson snapped.

"Because no one is going to spend their dying moments writing and angry note in German, Anderson. Use your bloody brain. Chances are, she was writing the name Rachel." Mel retorted smartly.

"Why on earth would she write that?"

"Well, if I knew that, I wouldn't be simply sitting here, waiting for Sherlock to come out, now would I?"

"Dear God, how did a woman like you even get involved with a person like him?"

"I'll have you know, that Sherlock Holmes is one of the best, most intelligent men who has ever lived. He's more than twenty times the man you could ever even imagine being." Melody said, squaring her shoulders in order to make herself look more intimidating. Anderson simply took a cautious step back.

Suddenly, the door flung open, and Sherlock strode out on to the landing.

"Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase - was there a suitcase in this house." He yelled, ignoring a wide eyed Anderson, and a fuming Melody.

Various officers round the house looked blankly back at him. Lestrade emerged from the room behind him.

"Sherlock, there was no case." He informed the man.

"But they take the poison themselves. They chew and swallow the pills themselves, there are clear signs - even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock fumed.

"Right, yes, thanks - and?" Lestrade questioned, exasperated.

"... it's murder. All of them." Melody realized, now calmly looking at Sherlock. "Exactly." Sherlock said, looking at her. "I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings - serial killings. We've got a serial killer. Love those, there's always something to look forward to."

"Why? Why are you saying that?" Lestrade asked in a slight panic.

"Where's her case? Come on, where is it?Did she eat it? Someone else was here - and they took the case. So the killer must have driven her here - forgot the case was in the car ..." Sherlock deduced.

"Maybe she checked into her hotel, left her case there." John suggested.

"She never made it to her hotel. Look at her hair - colour co-ordinates her lipstick and her shoes, she'd never have left a hotel with her hair still like --" Sherlock suddenly stopped talking and looked straight ahead before facepalming.

"Oh! Oh!"

"... Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock began bounding down the stairs.

"Sherlock? What is it, love?" Mel called after him.

"Serial killers, always hard. You've got to wait for them to make a mistake ..." Sherlock called back.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Oh, we're done waiting. Look at her! Really, look! Houston, we have a mistake!" Sherlock said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

They looked back through the door at the pink-clad body.

"Get on to Cardiff, find Jennifer Wilson's family and friends - find Rachel."

"Of course, yes. But what mistake??"

"Pink!!" Sherlock and Melody cried out at the same time.

Lestrade just looked wearied for a moment - like he'd had to put up with this many times.

"Okay - let's get on with it!!" Anderson demanded. His team start piling up the stairs, practically shoving past John and Mel. The room was a bustle of activity now, and John, still on the landing, looked more lost than ever.

"Come on, John. Let's he get going, shall we?" Mel suggested. She took his arm as he began to limp down the stairs.

When they made it down the stairs and exited the building, they looked around. Everyone was on the move now - like everything had frozen before, to let Sherlock do his work.

Unfortunately, their eyes landed on Sally Donovan, looking sardonically at them.

"He's gone." She snarked.

"Sherlock Holmes?" John asked, separating himself from Melody.

"He just took off - he does that."

"Is he coming back?"

"Didn't look like it."

"... right."

Melody practically pulled him away from Sally, as she did not like the woman one bit.

"Hey --" Sally called, making Mel stop and turn around. Sally had moved a few steps towards, curious now.

"You're not his friends, he doesn't have friends. So who are you?"

"I'm - I'm nobody, I only just met him." John started.

"That's not true, John. And for your information, Ms. Donovan, Sherlock Holmes does indeed have friends. And we don't take very kindly to those who call him names like "freak". You would do well to remember that."

"Bit of advice for both of you. Stay away from that guy."

"Why?" John asked, genuinely curious.

"You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. Weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing round a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there."

John stared at her, appalled at the idea.

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a psychopath. And psychopaths get bored."

Mel had to grit her teeth in order to keep her mouth shut. John simply stared at her.

Lestrade called over, gaining Donovan's attention.

"Coming!" She yelled. As she moved away, she spoke one last time.

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes."

Mel asked John to stay there for a moment while she ran after Sally.

"Donovan!" She called.

The woman stopped, as Mel approached.

"Listen to me, and listen closely. You may think you know something about Sherlock Holmes, but you don't know anything. And perhaps one day everyone will be standing around a body. Everyone except for you. Because it will be your body. And I'll be the one who put it there. So go ahead and let me catch you talking negatively about Sherlock Holmes just one more time. I assure you, that I will not hesitate to give Sherlock a very simple case to solve." Melody promised, before turning on her heel, and walking away. She took John by the arm and smiled widely at him. "Let's go home to our friend, shall we, Mr. Watson?"


	6. Caring

John and Mel walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks. Mel simply wished to enjoy the night air, and John agreed to accompany her. According to him it wasn't "safe" for a woman such as herself to be walking along by herself at night. She simply sighed at that notion.

A telephone began ringing out of nowhere, causing Melody to look around. There was a solitary phone box, a little distance from them. Instinctively, John glanced back at Melody, like he almost expected her to know who it was- but no, Mel had an eyebrow quirked, and a curious look on her face.

John turned and walked on, Mel following close behind. As they passed by, the telephone stopped ringing.

"Curious." Mel mused to herself.

John limped on, trying to hail a Taxi, but failing. It headed straight past him.

"Yeah, thanks." He muttered.

Again, ringing. He glanced behind him, through the open door of a cramped little convenience store. At the back of the shop, there was a payphone, which was ringing.

John, frowning now,thought aloud. "Couldn't be for me. Nah, that's stupid. Stupid."

"Dunno, John. Could be for you. Could just be coincidence. But I havze come to learn from being around Sherlock that there is no such thing as a true coincidence." Melody reasoned.

Just as the shopkeeper reached to answer the phone - it stopped.

Suddenly, a phone in a box across the street started to ring. John and Mel, just about to cross the road, exchanged looks.

"This can't be happening. This is ridiculous!" John exclaimed as they approached the box.

Melody walked briskly forward and flung the booth open,before pulling the phone off of the reciever and answering.

"Hello? Can I help you?" She asked.

John just looked at her in slight awe.

"Ms. Hudson, if you would kindly put John Watson on, it would be appreciated." A posh voice replied calmly. A very... familiar, posh voice.

"Is...is this-"

"Ms. Hudson, please. There is a cab coming round to retrieve you and bring you back to my brother at your residence. Now, if you please, allow me to speak to John Watson." He said, obviously exasperated.

Melody rolled her eyes and muttered "drama queen", before handing the phone to John. As promised, a cab rolled up to the curb.

"Well, while you deal with this whole situation, I'm going home. I'll see you in a bit." Mel said, opening the cab door. Before getting in,she turned back to her friend. "Oh, and John? Just do whatever he asks. It's easier that way." And with that, she got into the cab and shut the door.

"Bloody Holmes boys." She muttered to herself.

"Where to, miss?" The cabbie asked.

"Two two one, Baker Street." She said with a small smile.

"Absolutely." The cabbie said with a smile.

As the cab drove down the streets of London, Melody's mobile rang. Upon seeing the caller ID, she answered without a greeting.

"Mycroft, if you get much more overdramatic, I may as well give you a crown and start calling you the Queen. Not that you practically aren't at this point, but still. You could have just rang me."

"And lose the element of surprise? Never, my dear. And as I've told you before,I simply occupy a minor position in the British Government." The man replied smoothly.

"Right. And I'm a bloody detective." Mel scoffed.

"It seems that with a bit more practice alongside my dear brother, you could be. One of the best,at that." He teased.

"Mycroft, if I didn't know any better, I would say you're fond of me." She quipped.

"Ahh, yes. But you do know better, don't you?"

"Of course. After all, you and your brother are much more alike than either of you would like to admit. I remember the first time we met. I thought you were an ass."

"And now?"

"Oh,you're still an ass. But now you're an ass who keeps us safe. So there's that."

Mycroft let out an almost undetectable chuckle, which brought a smile to Melody's face.

"Well, I do believe that you are pulling up to Baker Street now, Ms. Hudson. Don't worry about the fare, he's been paid and generously tipped. Go deal with my brother. Keep him from doing anything too detrimental to his health. You know how it would upset Mummy should harm befall him."

"I'm well aware of that, Croft. Tell Mummy Holmes not to worry herself. Sherlock lives at Baker Street. How much trouble could he possibly get into?" She chuckled, hanging up the phone.

As the cab rolled to a stop, Mel opened her door. "Thank you, sir!" She called to the white haired gentleman who had driven her.

"My pleasure. Have a lovely night, miss." He replied curtly.

"And you as well." She said, exiting the vehicle.

She approached the door and put her key in the hole. Unlocked. Of course. "One of these days, some stranger is going to just come barging in, and Sherlock Holmes is going to be the one to blame." She muttered, flitting up the stairs to Sherlock's flat. She entered to see him lying on the sofa ,his hands templed in prayer beneath his chin.

"Hello there." She said, smiling slightly.

Sherlock made no motion to acknowledge that he had heard her.

"Right then. Mind Palace." She reasoned, settling into the brunet man's chair. She would simply wait until either Sherlock came out of his Mind Palace, or John came home from his meeting with Mycroft. Either way, she was probably going to be there for a while. She curled into the chair and felt her eyes grow heavy as sleep overcame her.

~*~*AN*~*~*

Hey guys! First of all, let me say thank you so much for reading and giving me feedback on this story! I'm so glad you are all enjoying it! Now to the fun part...

@wolviegurl : Thank you for your reviews! It encouraged me to see that you were liking the story! Hope you continue to do so.

@TheQueenOfGoodbyes : I absolutely LOVED writing the parts where she rips apart Donovan and Anderson! I don't care for Donovan, and I really wanted her to be knocked down a peg.

@Daniella king : I'm so glad you enjoy it! As for the character of Melody: don't forget that even at this point in the show, we weren't 100% sure on what Sherlock and John were quite like either. Right now, she's just kind of settling into her place with the boys. I've dropped little hints at her past, and the anger definitely is a big part of that. The whole "less smart Sherlock" thing is because she is brilliant in her own regards, but she is still learning how to do what he does. Sherlock is no dout the brain, and John is the heart, but Mel is kind of the nervous system. She is the perfect mixture of heart and head, therefore, she may not have the brain power that Sherlock does, but she is smart in ways that Sherlock lacks.

I hope this answered any concerns or questions anyone had! I hope you continue to enjoy the story, and be sure to let me know what you think. Also- if you have any ideas on what you want to happen, let me know! I may just use an idea or two... Love you guys! Xxx-Tiffany


	7. Looking

When John limped into the flat, he was met with the sight of Sherlock Holmes sprawled on sofa, seemingly in dreamy contemplation. Quickly after, he noticed a figure curled into Sherlock's chair. It was Melody, with a small blanket draped carefully over her. His gaze turned back to his flatmate, who was surrounded by paper, his laptop is open on his chest, along with his PDA and his phone. It looked as though he hadn't moved in hours. That was when John noticed that he had rolled up one sleeve and was fiddling with something on his exposed forearm.

"What are you doing?" John finally questioned, rather loudly.

Melody woke with a small start, causing Sherlock to look at her, then glance up at the man irritably. Mel rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked between the men as Sherlock showed John his arm.

"Nicotine patch, helps me think! Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days - bad news for brain work!" he explained quickly.

"Good news for breathing." John tried to reason.

"Oh, breathing - breathing's boring." Sherlock quipped, earning a small snicker from a still groggy Melody. He looked over at her and cracked a small smile. Mel Smiled back before noticing the weight of the blanket on top of her. That certainly wasn't there when she fell asleep...

"Three patches?" John asked, breaking Mel out of her own thoughts.

"It's a three patch problem." Sherlock said as though it were a bit obvious.

John looked at Mel in slight disbelief. The woman simply shrugged, being used to Sherlock's antics.

"Well?" John asked as Sherlock simply continued to stare, lost in thought. "You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important." he continued.

"Oh, yes, of course." Sherlock said, once again acknowledging John. "Can I borrow your phone?"

John simply stared at him. "... my phone!"

"Don't want to use mine - always a chance the number'll be recognized. It's on the website." Sherlock explained.

John looked at him with mounting indignation. "Mrs. Hudson's got a phone."

"Yeah, but she's downstairs." Sherlock shrugged.

"Melody has a phone."

Sherlock looked over at the woman. As their eyes met, she smiled.

"Melody was asleep. Seeing as how she has been deprived of that luxury for quite some time, I thought that it would be best to allow her to continue sleeping." Sherlock said, allowing himself to smile at Mel once again.

John noticed the small moment between the two, but decided against saying anything. I instead, he decided to give Sherlock a piece of his mind. "I was on the other side of London!"

"There was no hurry." Sherlock assured, obviously blind to John's irritation. He held his hand imperiously out for the phone.

John was seething, but already knew that there was no point in arguing. He handed his phone to Sherlock with a sigh of indignation.

"What's this about? The case?" John inquired.

"Her case." Sherlock corrected.

"Her case?" John asked, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

"Her suitcase, yes, obviously!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Melody was quickly catching on to Sherlock's train of thought.

"The murderer took her suitcase." she said, sitting up straight.

"The first big mistake." Sherlock agreed.

"Okay, he took her case... So?" John said, not understanding why the suitcase was so important to the two.

"It's no use. There's no other way, we'll have to risk it." Sherlock decided quietly, looking to John. "There's a phone number on my desk - I want you to send a text."

John just looked bemusedly at the man. "You brought me here to send a text."

"A text, yes! Number on the desk!" Sherlock encouraged. He looked at John, who was hesitating for some reason.

"John? What's wrong?" Melody asked.

John looked between Sherlock and Melody before deciding to answer.

"I just met a friend of yours." he said vaguely.

"A friend?" Sherlock said dubiously. Mel felt her eyebrows pull together. Sherlock didn't really have friends. Neither did she, for that matter. Mycroft. He had to be talking about Croft.

"An enemy." John rephrased.

Yup. Definitely Mycroft alright. Mel smirked as Sherlock's eyes shot open.

"Oh! Which one?" Sherlock asked, nonchalantly.

Melody gave a very unladylike snort at that comment. She covered her mouth in embarrassment, but the boys made no comment.

"Your arch enemy - according to him. Do people have arch enemies?" John asked, genuinely curious.

Melody was trying her hardest not to burst into laughter, but Sherlock just stared at him, now troubled.

"Did he offer you money to spy on us?" The man asked, smirking at the female sat across from him.

"Yes." John said in slight surprise.

"Did you take it?" Melody inquired, leaning forward as she placed her elbow on her knee, and her chin in her palm.

"No." John said as though the thought perturbed him greatly.

"Pity. We could've split the fee. Think it through next time." Sherlock reasoned.

"Who is he?" John asked the pair.

"The biggest drama queen you've ever met. Next to Sherlock, of course." Melody said with a sly grin on her face. Sherlock gave her a playful, scolding look, causing her to stick her tongue out at him like a child. He chuckled at her antics and she sent him a quick wink.

"He's not our problem, right now." Sherlock reminded her. He turned his attention back to John as he spoke again. "On my desk, the number!" John stepped over to the desk, and from on top of the stacked papers, picked up a slip of card.

"Jennifer Wilson? That was ... hang on, wasn't that the dead woman?" John recalled.

"Yes, doesn't matter, just enter the number." Sherlock urged. "Are you doing it?"

"Yes -"

"Have you done it?"

"Sherlock, give him a moment." Mel scolded. "Let us know when you're ready, John." she said in a kind voice.

"Hang on... yes." John said, finally ready.

Sherlock nodded and spoke very carefully. "Now these words exactly. "What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come."

John looked at Sherlock worriedly. "... You blacked out?"

A look of confusion crossed Sherlock's face for a moment. "What? No, no. Type and send, quickly." He said, then sprung up from the sofa, and headed into the kitchen. He returned, passing by John, who was still fumbling at the text. He only broke off to stare, because Sherlock returned from the kitchen with a pink case. Where in the hell had he gotten that?

"Sent it yet?" Sherlock asked again.

"What was the address?" John said, eyeing the man.

"22 Northumberland Street." Melody reminded him.

Sherlock banged the case down the on the coffee table and opened it.

"That's ... that's the pink lady's case ... Jennifer Wilson's case..." John trailed off.

"Yes, very observant, John." Mel said with a grin.

"Oh, I should probably mention that I didn't kill her. Nor did dear Melody, here." Sherlock assured the man, who looked just a little thrown, if not a bit chilled.

"I never said you did." John reasoned.

"Why not? Given the text I just had you send, the fact that you don't really know miss Hudson or what she is capable of, and the fact we now have this case, it would be a perfectly logical assumption."

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" John questioned.

"Now and then, yes. Melody, not so much. But, me? Yes."

"...Okay." John said simply. "So how did you get this?"

Sherlock gave a small smirk to Melody as he met her eyes. "By looking."


	8. Dangerous

"Where?" John asked, absolutely lost.

Sherlock looked at the case and began his explanation. "The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident, if it was in a car. No one could be seen with this case without attracting attention - particularly a man, which is statistically likely. So obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it - wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car within five minutes of Lauriston Gardens and looked for anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. "

Melody looked at him in suddenly realization. "Did you- did you really go skip diving?" She asked in mild digust.

Sherlock nodded as though it was nothing. "Took me less than an hour to find the right skip. And not to worry, Melody, I have indeed showered and changed." He assured her.

John simply stared at him. "Pink. You got all that, cos you realised the case would be pink." He said in disbelief.

"It had to be pink. Obviously." Melody reasoned.

"Why didn't I think of that?" John grumbled.

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock replied bluntly.

John looked stung, and Melody looked at Sherlock incredulously. "Sherlock!" She exclaimed, lightly hitting the brunet man's arm.

Sherlock looked up and frowned, shaking his head. "Don't look like that - practically everyone is. " He indicated to the case, completely refocusing their attention. "Now look - do you see what's missing?"

"From her case? How could I?" John countered.

"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone?" Melody questioned.

"No phone on the body, no phone in her case. We know she has one - the number's right there, and John just texted it." Sherlock responded.

"Maybe she left it at home." John proposed.

Sherlock shook his head and quickly shut that idea down. "She has a string of lovers, and she's careful about it - she never leaves it at home. "

He plucked the little slip of card from John's hand and re-inserted it in the luggage tag of the pink bag.

"So why did I send that text?" John inquired.

"The question is, where is that phone now?" Melody countered.

"She could've lost it."

"Yes. Or?" Sherlock challenged.

"... the murderer? You think the

murderer has the phone?" John contests.

"Maybe she left it in his car, when she left her case. Maybe he took it for some other reason. Either way, my bet is that the murderer has her phone." Melody concluded.

"Sorry, what are we doing here. Did we just text a murderer? What good does that do?" John asked the two.

As if waiting for a cue, John's phone rings.

He snatched it up, looked at the number on the screen, and then at the luggage tab on the case.

"A few hours since his last victim - and now he's got a text which can only be from her ... Now someone who'd just found the phone would ignore a text like that. But the murderer -" Abruptly, the phone stopped ringing, "- would panic."

Sherlock sprung to his feet and started pulling on his coat.

"Have you talked to the police?" John said, his tone a bit concerned.

"Four people are dead - there isn't time to talk to the police." Sherlock argued.

"Then why are you talking to me?" John asked after a short pause.

"Mrs. Hudson took my skull." Sherlock shrugged.

John looked to the mantlepiece. The skull was indeed gone. "So I am basically filling in for your skull?"

"Relax, you're doing fine. Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well you could just sit here and watch telly ..."

John rose to his feet, unsure what his role was. "You want me to come with you?"

"I prefer company when I go out - I think better aloud."

"And the skull just attracts attention." Melody added in a joking tone, adjusting her scarf.

John stood- hesitating.

"Problem?" Sherlock queried.

"Sergeant Donovan ..." John started.

"Oh God. What about her?" Mel sighed.

"She said you get off on this. You enjoy it." He said, eying Sherlock.

Sherlock just looked at him for a moment. Then a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "And I said "dangerous". And here you are." He turned, winking at Melody,then went out -pointedly leaving the door open behind him.

Mel smirked and looked back at John before following Sherlock. "Come along then, Doctor. Haven't got all evening." She said, motioning for him to follow.

"Damn it!" He exclaimed quietly, limping after Sherlock and Melody.


	9. Confusion

"Where are we going?" John asked as he hurried to catch up with the pair. He noticed that Mel had her arm wrapped through Sherlock's and they were walking as closely as they could.

"Northumberland Street is five minutes walk from here." Sherlock explained.

"You think he's stupid enough to go there"

"No, I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones - they're so desperate to get caught." He corrected.

"Why?"

"Appreciation! Applause! Take your pick. They want attention, dear, John!" Melody announced.

She stepped away from Sherlock and jumped up on the low wall, spreading her arms, theatrically. Sherlock held onto her hand as to keep her from falling off. "At long last, the spotlight!"

"That's the frailty of genius, John - it needs an audience." Sherlock finished.

John, looked up at him and smiled cynically.

"Yeah."

Sherlock looked around the bustling town, people hurrying everywhere.. "This is his hunting ground. Right here in the heart of the city. We now know the victims were abducted, and that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from crowded places, from busy streets - but nobody saw them go. They walked out of their lives with a complete stranger, and trusted him right to the moment they swallowed his poison. He can do the impossible, this one - he needs to take a bow."

"If it is a 'he'. The pink lady wrote "Rachel"..." John mused.

"Yes. That's odd. 'Til we know who Rachel is, no point in speculating. Mustn't theorise in advance of the facts." Sherlock conceded.

Melody squeezed his hand, causing him to look up at her he grabbed her waist and gently set her on the ground. She smiled warmly and thanked him. He offered his arm, and she looped hers through once again.

"Think, though, think! Who do we trust, even if don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" Sherlock stressed.

"Who?" Mel asked, looking up at him curiously.

"Haven't the faintest. Hungry?"

"Starving." She informed him.

They turned and started striding on. John simply smiled at the two, shaking his head.

The trio entered a fairly shabby looking Italian

restaurant, where a young waiter was waiting to greet them.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes." He said, pointing them to a small booth.

"Thank you, Billy." Sherlock said, removing his coat and sitting down. Melody attempted to do the same, but got her arm stuck in her sleeve.

"Bloody hell." She mumbled. John came to her rescue and got her arm free.

"There we go." He said taking her jacket and placing it to the side with his own.

"Thank you, darling." She said, sliding into the booth next to Sherlock. John nodded his welcome as he slid in next to her.

"22 Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it." Sherlock instructed.

"He's not just going to ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd have to be mad." John mused.

"Well he has killed four people." Mel reasoned.

"... okay."

"Sherlock!" The owner of the restaurant, Angelo, boomed, delighted to see Sherlock. "Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free! All on the house, you and your date." He said, motioning to Melody.

"Do you want to eat?" Sherlock asked offhandedly.

"I'm not his date." Mel said,slightly confused.

Angelo threw his arm round Sherlock's shoulders. "This man! Got me off a murder charge!"

"This is Angelo. Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade that at the time of a particularly vicious triple-murder, Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking." Sherlock explained quickly.

"He cleared my name."

"I cleared it a bit. Anything happening opposite?"

"We've been keeping an eye out." He showed him a photo on his mobile phone."Just this man - stopped for a minute."

"Oh, he's just drunk." Sherlock dismissed before looking closer at the photo. "Also married with a dog."

"We all are, in the end." Angelo attempted to joke. Mel narrowed her eyes at the man, which Sherlock noticed and tried to diffuse the situation immediately.

"Married _with_ a dog. Keep your eyes peeled."

"I'm on the case!" He turned to John and smiled. "But for this man, I'd have gone to prison."

"You did go to prison." Sherlock reminded him.

"I get you a candle for the table - more romantic." Angelo insisted.

"I'm not his date!" Mel reiterated, but it was pointless as Angelo shoved menus at them all.

"You may as well eat - we might have a long wait." Sherlock suggested to John as tossed his menu aside, relapsed into his own dark thoughts.

John and Mel just sat there, feeling a little stranded. What the hell were they supposed to be doing? Angelo reappeared, setting down a candle between them, and lit it.

John and Mel exchanged glances, then looked at the candle - just a tiny bit uncomfortable.

"Thanks." They muttered in unison. They eventually ordered food and decided on a glass of white wine each.

Mel kept her eyes glancing between Sherlock and the street, waiting to see which would show activity first. Once their dishes and drinks came they tucked in, realizing again how hungry they were.

As John was finishing his bowl of pasta, Mel was about halfway through hers. Sherlock's eyes were on the street opposite. He was pre-occupied, lost in his own thoughts.

John regarded him for a moment, thoughtful. "People don't have arch-enemies."

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked, finally being broken out of his thoughts.

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life, it doesn't happen." John informed.

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull."

"So who was that guy?"

Melody smiled, setting down her fork. She was now very interested in this conversation.

"What do real people have then? In their real lives?" Sherlock evaded the question.

"Friends. People they know. People they like, people they don't like -"

John's eyes flicked to the candle between them- still just a little disconcerted- then to Melody, who raised a brow in question. "Girlfriends, boyfriends."

"Yes, well as I was saying - dull!" Sherlock sighed.

"So. You don't have a girlfriend then?"

"A girlfriend? No. Not really my area."

"Oh. Oh, right. ..." A beat passed before John spoke again. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Sherlock just looked at him, curious - what was he on about?

"Which is fine, by the way." John assured

"I know it's fine."

"So you've got a boyfriend then?"

Melody nearly choked on her wine upon hearing that question leave John's mouth.

"No." Sherlock replied, looking at his two companions quite oddly.

"Right. Okay. Unattached. Like me. Fine, good."

Sherlock looked at him a moment, his brows furrowed. "... John, you should know, I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest-"

"No, no, I wasn't asking you out, no! I'm just saying, it's all fine!" John interrupted.

"Good... thank you."

"Besides, your archenemy seems to think that you and Melody will be happily together before too long." He chuckled.

Melody's face turned bright red as she turned to look at Sherlock. Oddly enough, his cheeks were also tinged slightly pink. Oh, Mycroft was in for an earful from both parties.

"But seriously, an archenemy, though- what's that supposed to mean?" John asked, oblivious to the moment going on between his flatmates.

"Nothing in real life, apparently. Take a look across the street."Sherlock commanded, now turning his gaze to look raptly across the street.

Puzzled at his sudden change in behavior, John followed his look and stared. Melody turned in her seat as well, the three of them all staring out the window, searching for their next clue.


	10. Run For Your Life

As the trio looked out the window, they realized that a taxi had stopped outside 22 Northumberland Street.

"In a taxi! That's clever! Is it clever? Why's that clever?" Sherlock asked himself.

"That's him!" John exclaimed.

"Don't stare." Sherlock said stiffly.

"You're staring." John quipped

"Well, we can't all stare, then it'd be obvious." Melody mused.

Suddenly, Sherlock was on his feet, striding out of the restaurant. Mel and John scrambledfrom their seats, throwing their coats on as quickly as possible.

"Never a dull moment with that man." She muttered under her breath. She and John joined Sherlock outside, just as the cab was pulling away.

"I got the cab's number." John announced.

"Good for you." Sherlock said sarcastically, his eyes snaping shut as he began visualising their route. "Left turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights ..." his eyes flashed open, and Sherlock Holmes lunged straight into the traffic, cars swerving and braking round him. He raced across the road, paying no heed to the oncoming vehicles.

In a heartbeat, John and Mel were racing after him, dodging traffic and swerving aroung obstacles.Sherlock shoved past a man who was entering an apartment building, and raced into the hallway.

"Sherlock!" Melody called out.

"Sorry!" John apologized to the man as they ran last him.

Sherlock was pounding up the stairs, John and Melody in hot pursuit. Sherlock reached the top of the stairs, soon followed by A slightly winded Melody, and then John as he came gasping to the top. They saw Sherlock clambering out of a window.

"What?" Melody breathed out in exasperation.

They hurriedly followed him for fear of being left behind, and were soon racing across the rooftops. Sherlock now leaping from one roof to the next, Melody following him carefully, yet swiftly.

They looked back to see John, hesitating behind them. "Oh dear God!" He whispered.

"Come on, John! We're losing him!" Sherlock called. John jumped, and they continued on, clattering down it. They ran through a narrow back alley and trough many back streets and buildings until Sherlock burst out of the end of the side street they were on, and right

into the traffic.

Right in front of him was the taxi. It screeched to a halt in front of him. Sherlock marched round the side of the taxi and slammed a card against the driver's window, yelling. "Police, pull over, now. Pull over!"

The cabbie complied, pulling off to the side.

"Open up, come on, now!" Sherlock continued. As he tore the door open, and looked in, he was greeted by a faintly startled man. He was tanned, good looking, and surrounded by cases.

Sherlock frowned as John and Mel came up to join him, the former of the two panting heavily.

"No! Teeth, tan, what, Californian? LA, Santa Monica, just arrived." Sherlock groaned.

"No, how could you - "

"The luggage!" Mel explained, pointingto his baggage tags.

"Oh, and your first trip to London probably -going by your destination, and the route this driver has taken you."Sherlock inserted.

"Sorry. Are you guys the police?" The confused man asked.

"Yes. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah."

"Welcome to London." He strode off, pulling Melody along and leaving John just standing there, the man looking at him, bemused.

"Any problems, just let us know." John said cooly. He slammed the door,and headed after Sherlock, who looked grumpy. He was now leaning against the traffic barrier at the side of the road with Mel standing in front of him, arms crossed.

"So. That was basically just a taxi that happened to slow down." John said as he joined them.

"Basically." Sherlock seethed.

"Not the murderer."

"No, not the murderer."

"Wrong country. Good alibi."

"As they go."

Sherlock still had the police card in his hand. Melody took it from him. "So where did you get this?"she asked before reading it and smirking. "Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

"Yeah. I pick-pocket him when he's annoying. You can give John that one, I've got loads at the flat. Even got a few of Donovan's you can have if you like." He offered.

Melody handed the card to John, who started to laugh.

"What?" Sherlock pressed.

"Nothing, just ... "Welcome to London!"."

In spite of himself, Sherlock chuckles too, followed closely by peals of laughter from Mel. But the chuckles died when they saw that the taxi had pulled in a little distance away. The passenger in the back was leaning out the window, talking to a policeman, pointing back at John, Melody, and Sherlock.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked.

"Ready when you are!" John informed.

"Lead us on, Holmes." Mel announced.

And with that, they vaulted over the traffic barrier and started running like hell ...

When they finally arrived back to the house, all three were breathing a bit heavily.

"That was ridiculous. That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." John breathed out, a smile on his face.

"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock retorted.

John and Mel immediately burst into laughter, which caused Sherlock himself to chuckle a bit.

"Yeah, it wasn't just me." John said after he calmed down. "Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

"Oh, they can keep an eye out. It's a long shot anyway."

"So what were we doing there?"

"Passing the time, proving a point."

"What point?" John looked at Sherlock, befuddled.

"You. " Sherlock said simply as he stepped to the door at the back of hall, which led to the Hudson's. He opened it and called through. "Mrs. Hudson, Dr. Watson will be taking the upstairs room!"

"Says who?" John inquired.

The doorbell rang, and Sherlock smirked. "Says the man at the door."

Bemused, John turned and opened the door.

Angelo was standing there much to his and Melody's surprise. In his hands were John's walking stick and a bag of takeout boxes. "Sherlock texted me! He said you forgot this. And I also brought another pasta for the lady, per his request."

John just stared, thunderstruck. His hand went to his leg in shock. Melody looked up at Sherlock, who was standing there with a satisfied grin on his face.

Out of nowhere, Mrs. Hudson burst out her door, tearful and shocked. "Oh, Sherlock, what have you done??" She asked.

"Mum? What's wrong?" Melody urged, panicked.

"Upstairs!"

Melody and Sherlock exchanged a look, and then they were all racing up the stairs together.


	11. Surprise

They burst into the rooms to see Lestrade is sitting in Sherlock's chair, examining the pink case. The flat was full of policemen searching the flat - a proper full-on search, rubber gloves, crime scene gear.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded.

"Well I knew you'd find the case, I'm not stupid." Lestrade scoffed, looking at Sherlock.

"You can't just break into my flat!"

"You can't withhold evidence, and I didn't break into your flat."

"Well what do you call this?"

"A drugs bust." Lestrade didn't sound proud to be doing this, but he knew it would get quick results.

Melody looked up at Sherlock, who had paled significantly. This was not good.

John began laughing, not realizing how serious the situation was. "Oh, come on, seriously? This guy, a junkie? Have you met him?"

"John ..." Mel warned quietly.

"Pretty sure, you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational – "

"John, you probably want to shut up now..." the Consulting Detective snapped.

"Yeah, but come on – "He looked at Sherlock and Mel- who both had a warning look on their faces. Sherlock gave a tiny shake of his head. "No!" John gasped.

"What?" Sherlock questioned.

"You?"

Sherlock looked almost affronted. "Shut up!" He turned on his heel to face Lestrade. "I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No! Anderson's my sniffer dog." Greg smirked. Sherlock spun to face the kitchen. To his dismay, Anderson leaned into view, and gave Sherlock a little wave.

"What's he doing here? On a drugs bust?" Sherlock sneered.

"I volunteered." Anderson said smugly.

"They all did. They're not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they're very keen. " Lestrade explained.

Sally Donovan turned and walked into view, holding a beaker. "Are these human eyes?"

Melody nearly snapped seeing the woman in the flat. "Put them back."

"They were in the microwave."

"It's an experiment." Sherlock sighed.

Lestrade called out, causing everyone to resume their search. "Keep looking, guys." He looked to Sherlock. "Or you could start helping me properly, and I'll stand them down."

"This is childish."

"I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case! I'm letting you in, but you don't go off on your own - clear?"

"What, so you set up a pretend drugs bust, to bully me?"

"Stops being pretend if they find anything."

"Sherlock, please." Melody said, quietly as she looked up at him" Just tell them what you know." She didn't want to see him go to jail just because he was too stubborn to cooperate. He looked down at her and frowned slightly.

"I'm clean." He assured both his friend and the Detective Inspector.

"Is your flat? All of it?" Greg pressed.

"I don't even smoke!" He argued, pulling up his sleeve, showing his patches.

Lestrade did the same to reveal that he also wore a patch. "Neither do I! So let's work together. We've found Rachel."

Sherlock sighed deeply and turned away from the man. "... Who is she?" he finally asked,

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

"Her daughter. Why would she write her daughter's name, why?"

"Never mind that, we found the case." Anderson's piercing voice echoed through the room. "According to someone the murderer has the case - and here it is, in the hands of our favourite psychopath."

Sherlock spun around, his face darkening and his voice sharp as he spoke. "I'm not a psychopath, Anderson - I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research!"

Melody stood in shock, slowly retreating to John's side. She had never had to see Sherlock so… violent. John noticed how pale and uncomfortable she suddenly looked, and placed a gentle arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

Sherlock seemed oblivious as he turned to Lestrade. "You need to bring Rachel in, you need to question her. I need to question her."

"She's dead." Lestrade informed.

"Excellent! How? When? Is there a connection? There has to be!"

"I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's still born daughter fourteen years ago."

Sherlock was properly winded by this. "No. No, that's not right. Why would she do that?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments. Yeah, sociopath, seeing it now." Anderson said.

"She didn't think about her daughter, she scratched her name on the floor. She was dying, it took effort, it would've hurt - she was trying to tell us something!" Sherlock retorted.

"The victims all took the poison themselves. Somehow, he makes them take it. Maybe he ... I dunno, talks to them. Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow..." Melody said, going to take a seat in John's chair.

"Oh, but that was ages ago - why would she still be upset?"

John cringed at him as the room was enveloped in awkward silence.

"Not good?" Sherlock whispered.

"Bit not good, yeah." John agreed.

Sherlock nodded and began pacing frantically. "Yes, but listen! If you were dying, if you'd been murdered, in your very last seconds, what would you say?"

"Please God let me live."

"Oh, use your imagination!"

"I don't have to."

"Yes, but if you were clever, if you were very clever... Jennifer Wilson, running all those lovers. She was clever, and she's telling us something!"

Mrs. Hudson is entered the flat, looking around in confusion. "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

"I didn't order a taxi, go away."

"Sherlock." Melody warned him, standing up.

Mrs. Hudson looked around, distressed at the state of the flat. "Oh dear, they're making such a mess. What are they looking for?"

"It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson." John informed her.

"Oh, but they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers."

Mel walked to her mum and put a calming hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, mum, they aren't here for you." She assured the woman.

By now Sherlock was pacing like a whirlwind, alive, and energized. "Shut up! Everybody shut up, I'm thinking, don't move, don't breathe, Anderson, face the other way, you're putting me off!"

The policemen look at him, confused - but Lestrade knew the signs. He nearly had the answer.

Anderson looked on in confusion. "What, my face is?"

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade commanded.

"For God's sake- "

"Your back, now, please!"

Anderson turned his back, furious and embarrassed. Sherlock began pacing faster and faster, thinking, thinking, clutching his head. "Come on, come on!"

"What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson insisted.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock roared.

"Sherlock!" Melody yelled, her face stoic and her heart beating fast as she stepped in front of her mother. Melody would allow a lot of things, but shouting at or harming her mother was not one of those things. She tensed up out of reflex, ready to be punished for challenging him, tears forming in her eyes.

Sherlocks face softened and he took a step back, causing her to relax a bit. He knew he had made a mistake. He had never seen her look so defensive in all the time that he had known her. "It's alright, Melody. I'm sorry." He said, trying to reassure her. She looked as though she might break at any moment. He held a hand out, motioning for her to come close to him.

She nodded silently and grasped his hand tightly. She knew Sherlock wouldn't hurt her. He had promised her that much- to never hurt her. She wrapped her arms around him, and he embraced her in a gentle hug. Everyone else looked on in slight surprise as he placed a small kiss on the top of her head. "I'm so sorry." He apologized.

"It's alright. I'll be alright." She said quietly. "Just solve this bloody case so we can be done with it." She said pulling away to look up at him.

Sherlocks eyes grew wide as a realization hit him. "Oh, she was clever. Clever, yes, I love her! She's cleverer than you lot dead! Do you see? Do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted in on him. When she got out that car, she knew she was going to her death - she left the phone to lead us to her killer!" he remarked. He let go of Melody and walked over to his desk.

"But how?" Lestrade asked.

"What do you mean, how? Rachel, don't you see? Rachel! Oh, look at you lot, you're all so vacant! What's it like, not being me, it must be so relaxing." Sherlock said in awe.

"Rachel is not a name." Melody realized, coming up beside Sherlock.

"Then what is it?" John asked.

Sherlock grabbed his tablet and opened his browser. "John, the luggage label, it had an email address on it."

" Jenny. pink. @mephone .uk." John read from the tag.

"I've been too slow, she didn't have a laptop, which means did her business on her phone. So, it's a smartphone, it's email enabled. So, there's a website for her account. The user name will be the email address." Sherlock typed furiously. "And all together now, the password is ...?"

"Rachel."

 **A.N- Hello, my loves! as you can tell, I have returned! I want to say thank you for all of the favorites and follows my story has received! If you guys are enjoying it, please let me know by leaving a comment! Thanks so much- xxx Tiff**


	12. Clever Girl

"So, we can read her emails - so what?" Anderson questioned.

Sherlock continued tapping away as he rolled his eyes. "Don't talk out loud, Anderson, you lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do more than read her emails - it's a smartphone, it's got GPS. And if you lose it, you can locate it online."

On the screen popped up a message that said, "Your phone will be located in under three minutes.". alongside a little clock-face, with the arms spinning

"She's leading us right to the man who killed her." Melody said, almost excitedly.

"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade countered.

"We know he didn't." John informed him.

"Come on, quickly, quickly!" Sherlock demanded of the computer.

"Sherlock, dear this taxi driver!" Mrs. Hudson insisted from the doorway.

"Mum, this really isn't a good time." Melody said gently, only slightly turning her head to look at her mother.

Sherlock sprung up from the netbook and approached Lestrade. "Get some vehicles ready, get a helicopter, we need to move fast - that phone battery won't last forever."

John went to the netbook and began drumming his fingers, willing the search to go faster.

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"It's a start!" Melody countered, facing Lestrade.

"Sherlock." John said, his eyes glued to the computer screen.

"It narrows it down from anyone in London, it's the first proper lead we've had." Sherlock noted, agreeing with Mel.

"Sherlock!" John said sharply, causing the man in question to turn.

"Where is it, where, quickly!" He said, joining John at the screen. He stared, frowning.

"It's here. It's in 221 Baker Street."

"But it can't be. How can it be here?" Melody asked, confused.

"Maybe it was in the case when you brought it back - fell out somewhere." Lestrade suggested, looking at Sherlock.

"And I didn't notice. Me? I didn't notice." Sherlock questioned.

"Anyway, I texted it and he phoned back." John pointed out.

Greg sighed as he turned to address his team. "Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here - belonged to the victim."

As Lestrade spoke, Melody's eyes traveled to Sherlock's face. She could tell that his mind was racing. "Come on, Sherlock, think." She whispered.

As Sherlock spun to face the door, he stilled, seemingly rooted to the spot.

"Sherlock? Are you okay, love?" Melody asked, approaching him.

Sherlock's mobile beeped.

"What? Yes, yes." He said blankly. He looked at his mobile. The room was swirling round him as the police searched the flat, but he just stared at his phone.

"So how can the phone be here?" John asked.

Melody studied his face and frowned. Something was wrong…

"I don't know ..." Sherlock murmured.

"I'll phone it again." John said, dialing the number.

"Good idea." As he spoke, he headed to the door.

Mel scrunched her eyebrows as she watched him. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. Fresh air, just popping out for a moment."

"You sure you're all right?" John asked as Sherlock hurried down the stairs.

"I'm fine!"

John looked at Melody, troubled. "What's going on?" He asked her, seeing the worried expression mirrored on her face.

She shook her head. "I wish I knew, John." She admitted. A million possibilities ran through her head, but none of them seemed right. John walked over to the window, watching to see when Sherlock was returning.

Melody nervously gnawed upon her thumb, pacing around the flat. What had she missed? Sherlock obviously knew something, but what?

John spun to face the rest of the room. "He just got in a cab."

Melody scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"Sherlock, he just drove off in a cab!" John exclaimed.

Mel hastened to the window, watching as a cab drove away from Baker Street. Why on earth would he just leave?

Sally glanced at them, pityingly. "I told you. He does that."

Melody took a deep breath and looked at John. She could see the discontent she felt mirrored in his eyes. Neither of them was satisfied – something was wrong...

Sally looked at Lestrade and sighed. "He bloody left. Again. We're wasting our time!"

John pulled out his mobile and brought it up to his ear, Watching Mel intently. "I'm phoning the phone, it's ringing out."

"If it's ringing, it's not here." Greg reasoned.

John hung up, a stony look on his face. "I'll try the search again." He said, clicking the 'Update Location' button on his tablet.

"Does it matter? Does any of it?" She stepped closer to Lestrade, speaking in hushed tones, as if what she had to say was confidential. "He's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down. And you're wasting your time. All our time."

Melody clenched her jaw and whipped her head around to look at the woman. "Donovan, I swear to all that is good and holy, if you don't shut up, I will not hesitate to chuck everything within reach at your head. Including John." She threatened.

It took everything Lestrade had in him not to burst into laughter. This girl was a spitfire to be sure, and she appeared to be fiercely protective of her friends. John simply looked at her, slightly affronted, but shook his head as he thought better than to say anything. Sally, however, looked as though she had been physically slapped. She appeared to be slightly frightened of the woman in front of her, and rightly so.

Melody looked at John and frowned. "This isn't right. Something is WRONG." She said, knowing that he would understand her discomfort with the situation at hand.

"Okay, everyone - we're done here ..." Lestrade announced to his team.

Mel pulled out her phone, typing out texts to Sherlock. "Are you okay?" "Where did you go?" "I'm worried, please let me know you're alright."

As the last of the police were leaving, only Lestrade loitered. His face revealed his emotions- frustrated, disappointed. "Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?"

John shrugged as he watched Melody walk over to the window, her phone pressed to her ear. "You know him better than I do." He admitted.

"I've known him five years, and no I don't."

"Why do you put up with him?"

"Because I'm bloody desperate, that's why!" He said, striding for the door. He hesitated, looking back at the pair. "Because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think, one day, if we're very, very lucky he might even be a good one." His gaze shifted to melody, who was looking out the window with her phone pressed to her ear, and her free hand over her heart. "And if she sticks around, I think that day will come sooner than any of us expect." He admitted, making his exit.

After a few minutes of silence, Mel turned to John. "He won't answer my calls or my texts. John, I'm worried."

He looked at her with a frown, wishing that he could do something to quell her fear. "Me too." He admitted. He went to put on a jacket, so he could go out and get a bit of air, when he heard a ping. Both of their heads snapped towards the source of the sound. They hurried to look at the screen, which showed a map to a local college.

How did he get… that's when it all clicked for Melody Hudson. The cabbie. A cabbie was just the back of a head. The perfect disguise for a murderer. No one would ever suspect a simple cabbie. And now, that cabbie had Sherlock Holmes. "We need to get to that college before Sherlock becomes the next victim on the list." She said, turning and grabbing her jacket.

John looked at her, his eyes wide in confusion.

"Sherlock is with the murderer. Come on John, we'll discuss more in the cab. But, first, I need to make a call." She said, dialing a number on her mobile. She flew down the stairs and out the door.

A voice greeted her on the second ring as she hailed a cab. "Miss Hudson. To what do I owe the pleasure at this time of evening?"

"Mycroft, your brother is in trouble. Again. Do me a favour and meet us at Roland-Kerr further education college. John and I are on our way now." She assured him as John appeared in the doorway. She opened the door and slid into the cab, John close behind.

"Right then. I'll be meeting you there in a short while. Miss Hudson, I do trust you'll try to keep yourself out of harm's way."

"You know I can't promise that."

"Yes, I know. Unfortunately, you and my brother share the trait of being reckless to the point of self-harm."

"It's what we're good at. But, I can assure you that we will both be alright. After all, He's Sherlock Holmes. And heaven help me, but I'd be lost without him." She admitted.

"And he without you, I assure you. Now go get my little brother out of whatever conundrum he's gotten himself into now. I'll see you shortly." He said.

"Until then." She replied, hanging up. She looked out the window and sighed, listening as John gave the cabbie directions. The Holmes boys were going to be the death of her.


	13. Dramatics

John and Melody sat in the back of a moving cab. John was fumbling with the Netbook, meanwhile, Melody had her mobile at her ear.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to speak to him, it's important, it's an emergency." Mel insisted, obviously irritated with the person on the other end of the phone.

"Left here, left!" John instructed, giving the cabbie the quickest directions possible.

The cab took a sharp left turn as Melody gave an irritated groan. "Are you bloody kidding me? I swear to God, if you don't get Greg Lestrade on the line right now, I'm going absolutely lose my—oh, hello, Greg."

John looked at her and couldn't help but to chuckle quietly, in spite of their current situation.

"Yes, it's Melody Hudson. Listen, I need you to get down to the Roland-Kerr further education college as soon as possible. It's an emergency. No, this is not a joke, Sherlock is in trouble. Yes. Yes, we'll see you there. Thank you." She hung up the call and looked at John. "They'll meet us there." She assured him.

The cab came to a stop and parked, behind the buildings. Melody and John scrambled, racing round to pay. As they did, he looked frantically between the two buildings.

Mel looked up and sighed. "You take that one, I'll take this one." She suggested, nodding to the respective buildings. John nodded and they took off in opposite directions.

Melody raced up the stairs,pounding along the corridor. "Sherlock! Sherlock!" she cried out, kicking open doors, looking in every room. As she belted along the corridor, she slammed open doors in search of the brunet man.

"Sherlock!" she called, throwing open yet another door. Empty! "Dammit, Sherlock!" She cursed, sprinting up the stairs.

Sherlock heard the voice calling his name but didn't answer. No, instead, he held the pill in front of his face, observing it. He would not lose this game. With his hand trembling, he brought the pill closer and closer to his mouth.

Before he could take it, the door to the room burst open, revealing a disheveled looking Melody Hudson. At the same time, the window exploded, creating a hail of shattering glass.

Sherlock staggered back in shock, the pill falling from his hand. He looked to the Taxi Driver - who was clutching at his chest, blood spurting, as he choked. He made a flailing grab at the table - then sent it crashing as he fell to the floor.

Sherlock and Melody were both in total shock. Their eyes remained glued to each other, almost assuring that the other was okay. A spluttering made them turn their gaze to The Taxi Driver, who was gasping his terrible last on the floor. Sherlock leapt past him, going straight to the pills and the bottles that were now scattered on the floor. He grabbed and examined them frantically. There was absolutely no way to tell them apart. He looked up at Mel and stood, approaching her. He hugged her tightly, then held her at arms length. "Go downstairs. Tell Lestrade I'll be down momentarily. You don't need to see this." He said quietly, causing her to nod.

She fled down to the parking lot, where Lestrade did indeed appear to be waiting for her and Sherlock. "He'll be down soon. Just give him a minute." She said, passing him to approach John. "That was a good shot." she mused.

John allowed a small grin to slip onto his face. "Yeah, well, had to be done, didn't it?" He said, shrugging.

"Thank you." she said earnestly. Parked outside the college gates was a black limo, and standing outside it, staring at them both, was Mycroft. Melody's mobile suddenly buzzed, revealing a message to come meet him. "Watch for Sherlock. I'll rejoin you before we leave." she promised.

John nodded and walked closer to the cars, watching for Sherlock to exit the building.

Melody made her way over to Mycroft, a small smile on her face. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a brief hug. "Nice to see you. Hope it wasn't too inconvenient." she said,taking a step back. "Your brother is sae. We got here just in time. John shot the cabbie, and Sherlock didn't take the pill. The day is saved." She chuckled. She looked around his shoulder and smiled. "Hi, Andrea!" she said happily. She was one of the few who had the privilege of knowing her real name.

Andrea smiled back and approached, giving the woman a hug. "Hello, darling. Staying busy, are we?"

"Always. Hard not to when you're friends with Sherlock Holmes." she chuckled.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear." Mycroft mused as Sherlock and John approached.

Mycroft started towards them, followed closely by Melody. They met in the gateway., like gunfighters. "So! Another case cracked. How very public spirited of you." he smirked. " Though that's never really ever your motivation, is it?"

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock snipped.

"Melody, why are you with him?" John said, confused.

"As ever ... I am concerned about you." Mycroft said, ignoring John.

"Yes. I've been hearing about your concern." Sherlock replied seemingly in disgust.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, you two. Sherlock, I called him here." Melody explained.

"Why? He's not needed." Sherlock pressed.

"Always so aggressive. Does it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side." Mycroft responded curtly.

"Oddly enough, no."

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us - it's simply childish. People will suffer. And you know how it always upset Mummy."

"I upset her? Me? It wasn't me who upset her, Mycroft."

Melody watched as the two went back and forth like a tennis match. She sighed in slight irritation at their bickering.

"No, sorry, wait, wait - Mummy? Who's Mummy?" John interjected.

"Mother. Their Mother. This is Sherlock's brother, Mycroft. And quite honestly, I envy Mummy Holmes right about now. At least she doesn't have to listen to your constant bickering. Then again, she raised you. Poor woman, it's a wonder she still has her sanity." Melody said, crossing her arms and looking between the brothers.

"He's your brother?" John reiterated, still feeling lost.

"Of course he's my brother." Sherlock said.

"He's not …"

"Not what?"

John looked a bit embarrassed. "I dunno. Some kind of ... criminal mastermind."

Melody had to muffle her laughter behind her hand. Myc? A criminal mastermind? Not in a million years.

Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. "Close enough."

"Oh for goodness sake! I occupy a minor post in the British Government." Mycroft fussed.

"He is the British Government. When he's not too busy being the British Secret Service. And the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening, Mycroft - try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does to the traffic. Melody, come along. We're going for Dim Sum." Sherlock turned on his heel, and started stalking away.

John looked at Mycroft and furrowed his eyebrows. "So when you say you're concerned about him, you actually are concerned about him."

"Of course, yes."

"And Melody?"

"I see Melody as family. She has kept my brother safe for some time now, and therefore keeps me sane and informed. In return, I keep her safe and employed."

"Employed?"

"I relay information between Sherlock and Mycroft. And, in cases like tonight, I Call him to diffuse any situations we might have run into." Melody explained.

"Right." he looked up at Mycroft and spoke again. "So, it actually is a childish feud."

"Oh, he's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners."

"Yes. No. God, no! Anyway, I'd better, um ... Good night."

"Goodnight, Dr. Watson. Melody, thank you for calling. I'll speak to you later, I'm sure." he said to the woman.

"Indeed. Goodnight, Myc." She hugged him quickly once again, then turned to John, pulling him away. They ran to catch up with Sherlock.

"So. Dim-Sum." Mel said, excited to eat again.

"I can always predict the fortune cookies." Sherlock said, matter-of-factly.

"No you can't." John chuckled.

"I nearly can. You did get shot though?"

"I'm sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. In the shoulder."

"The shoulder. I thought so."

"No you didn't." John repeated.

"The left one."

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess."

"Yes, you do." Melody laughed. She looked up and saw a smile spread across his face. "What are you so happy about?" she asked, nudging his side.

"Moriarty."

"What's Moriarty?" John asked.

"I have absolutely no idea." Sherlock replied, throwing am arm around Melody's shoulders.

 **AN: So, there we have it, the first episode is finished! Now, I won't go straight into The Blind Banker, because I want to reveal a bit into Melody's life before Sherlock, as well as the dynamic of their relationship earlier on. I hope you all enjoyed! I would love for you guys to let me know what you think!**


	14. You Ask, I Tell

Melody sat in the couch in 221B, thumbing through a book as she listened to Sherlock play violin. It had been a bit more than a week since the case with the cabbie, and she had been coming round the flat every day. John was sitting in his chair, typing away on his laptop. Melody gazed up at Sherlock, who was wearing a dressing gown over a dress shirt, and some trousers. He played his instrument with grace and fluidity, as though the bow was an extension of his arm. He was facing the window, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the street below.

John looked up with sudden intrigue, glancing over at Melody. "How did you and Sherlock meet?" He asked the woman.

Sherlock suddenly stopped playing, and looked at Melody, who was now frowning slightly, a small crease formed between her brows. Her gaze was fixed upon the table in front of her.

"John- "Sherlock started, knowing that this conversation would lead down a dark path, if not an uncomfortable one at least.

"No, no. It's fine, Sherlock." She assured. She looked up at him and smiled gently. "If John wants to know, I don't mind. After all, he's going to find out eventually."

John looked slightly confused- an expression which only grew when Sherlock put down his instrument and took a few large steps towards the couch. He sat beside Melody, close enough for their arms to press together, a detail which did not go unnoticed by John.

Melody took a deep breath and leaned into Sherlock's touch. "As I'm sure you know, Sherlock assisted in the case that got my father executed. John, my father was a terrible man. It started when I was about seven, I suppose. At least, that's when I started to notice it.

See, my dad ran a drug cartel. We had all kinds of stuff coming through our house, cocaine, meth, marijuana, you name it. Dad tended to sample the product. When he was high, it was like he was a different person. He got angry. He would yell at mum and hit her. One day, I got in the way, and I caught a beating for it. But he left mum alone. I started getting in the way as often as I could, just so mum wouldn't have bruises and broken bones anymore. This went on for years, and we moved around to avoid too much suspicion."

Sherlock reached for her hand and squeezed it in a comforting manner. He knew this wasn't easy, and he could hear her voice becoming thick with discomfort and sadness. She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand back to let him know that she was alright. She looked up at John and continued.

"One day, he got carried away, and put me in the hospital. Unfortunately, I wasn't a child anymore, so it was up to me to press charges. Of course, if I did that, things would only get worse for me. A few years later, he got busted for smuggling drugs. But that wasn't enough to warrant a death sentence. That's where Sherlock came in. He uncovered stuff that mum and I had no idea about. Stuff that made my skin crawl. As Sherlock uncovered those things, he also shed light on our home life. He was there one day when I broke down, and he helped me realize how strong I was for making it through what I did.

After the trial, he helped my mother and I move back to London. We kept in touch, and even worked together on occasion, when he needed a second eye on things. That started about a year ago, and He's been stuck with me ever since." She said, laying her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

John looked on in shock at the story she had told. "So, when your mother said that your father…and that's why when we shout…" he said, his brain slowly processing all the information. His eyes widened as everything finally hit. "Melody, I'm so sorry." He began apologizing.

"Don't be, John. I'm here now, and I'm safe. That's what matters." She assured him. "I still have the occasional fright, as you've seen, but I'm better." She promised.

As John went back to his computer, she looked up at Sherlock, who was currently looking at her with a glimmer of something in his eyes. Was it emotion? No, of course not. Sherlock didn't show weakness like emotions. "Thank you." She whispered.

"You did that all on your own." He reminded.

"Yeah, but you're here for me, and that's what counts. You could have just let me go through that on my own, but instead you came and comforted me. And for that, I thank you." She whispered.

She kissed his cheek, then got up and walked to the kitchen. A few moments later, Sherlock heard the water running, and the cabinets being opened and closed. She was making tea, something she always did after she was forced to go through something unpleasant. Sherlock simply stood and crossed over to his violin. He picked up the instrument and bow and began playing Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. He heard the kettle whistle and listened as she made three cups of tea. Each one made for a specific person. She carefully walked in, holding all three drinks in her hand.

The first, she set beside John as he worked diligently. He thanked her and took a sip, sighing in delight at the hint of cinnamon and orange she had added. The second, she sat to the side for herself. She knew that Sherlock was not overly fond of honey and ginger, but she happened to enjoy the mixture. The final cup, she walked over to Sherlock and placed it on the table beside him. It gave off the distinct scent of lemon but was sweetened with just a touch of sugar. She smiled at the song he was playing and listened as she moved away. She retrieved her cuppa, and sat in Sherlock's chair, listening as he played what just happened to be her favorite song- Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven.


	15. Having a Row

**Here we go, kids! The first chapter of The Blind Banker! I hope you all enjoy!**

Melody sat quietly in John's chair in 221B Baker Street, reading a book to herself. Sherlock was doing the same in his own chair across from her, both enjoying the calm and silence of the morning. John had popped off to Tesco to do a bit of shopping, and Mrs. Hudson was off doing the same across town, leaving the two of them to their own devices. The sound of a creak on the steps alerted the pair to another presence in the flat.

"Mum? John, is that you?" Melody called.

No answer. Mel looked over to Sherlock who was now standing.

"Melody, please make your way into the kitchen. I believe that our visitor is here about the diamond case that we declined." Sherlock said, walking towards the entryway.

"Right then." She replied, standing and scurrying to the kitchen to stay out of the way.

No sooner did she make it over to the cabinets to grab some coffee, did a loud grunt sound from the living area. She turned to see Sherlock locked in hand to hand combat with a six-foot Sikh warrior in a turban and full traditional battle dress. The Sikh lunged at him with a lethal-looking blade, but Sherlock jumped back to avoid the blow. Rather than get in the way, she continued to work on the coffee.

The fighting duo landed on the table, the sword precariously pressed against Sherlock's neck. It was at that point that Melody began to mildly panic. She took a nearby coffee mug and smashed it against the warrior's head, stunning him enough for Sherlock to roll away just in time before the knife landed - gashing Mrs. Hudson's finest teak. Mel sighed in relief before turning back to the coffee. Once it was finished, she turned to see Sherlock dusting himself off as he glanced down at the now unconscious warrior.

"You dispose of that, and I'll clean up. Then we'll have a cuppa." She said, giving a small nod. The shattered mug was easy enough to sweep up, but she had no idea how to fix the table. "Oh, mum is gonna be miffed about that one." She muttered before pulling out two clean mugs and pouring their coffees. They both drank their coffee black with sugar, which made it rather simple to make.

She turned and carried the coffees into the room, hand Sherlock's off to him before taking a seat in John's chair with her own. They both gave each other a warm smile before going back to reading. After a few moments, she looked back up at him and raised an eyebrow. "You know mum is gonna be livid when she sees the giant scratch on her finest teakwood."

Sherlock simply smiled and chuckled at her words. "You're probably right. No matter, I think it gives it a certain character." He teased.

"Yeah, along with all the chemical stains and eyeballs we constantly have there. Not exactly your average table decorations, but they're certainly conversation pieces." She laughed.

His deep baritone laugh and her own light soprano one filled the room, echoing around them. It was the first time in a while they had gotten a chance to relax, so it was nice to finally get that chance again. Once their laughter finally settled down, they were left simply smiling at one another. It was a comfortable silence, on that gave her peace and warmth inside.

John suddenly entered, clearly hassled by something.

Sherlock and Melody both turned their attention to him before the former spoke. "You took your time."

"Err ... I didn't get the shopping." John admitted.

"What? Why not?"

"I had a row in the shop. With the chip and pin machine."

Melody snorted and looked up at him with raised brows. "You had a row with a machine?"

"Well, sort of. It sat there, and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" He asked, turning to look at Sherlock.

The man nodded at the table with a small smirk. "Take my card."

John dug in Sherlock's wallet and found his debit card. "You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning – you two haven't moved since I went out."

Sherlock totally blanked on him, while Melody looked at her jumper-clad friend in mock insult. "I'll have you know, I made coffee just a bit ago." She informed him.

John rolled his eyes and looked back at Sherlock. "What happened about that case you were offered? The Jaria diamond."

"Not interested." Sherlock deadpanned. "I sent them a message."

Melody gives sherlock a pointed look, panning down to the sword beneath Sherlock's chair. He not-so-subtly kicked the blade under the sofa with a nod of thanks.

John exited the flat with a tut, leaving Mel and Sherlock alone once again.

He looked at her and smiled. "Could you get me John's laptop?" he asked, to which she smiled back and dashed up to John's room to retrieve it. This was a common occurrence, them taking John's laptop and seeing how quickly they could crack his passwords.

It was only about fifteen minutes later, when John entered again, laden with groceries. He dumped the bags on the counter with a bang. Mel moved from behind Sherlock and made her way over to help put away the groceries.

"Is that my computer?" John asked, looking over at Sherlock.

"Of course." The man replies, causing Mel to snicker.

John was taken aback. "What?"

"Mine is in the bedroom."

"And you couldn't be bothered to get up."

"In all fairness, I went and got yours." She admitted.

"It's password protected." John argued.

"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly Fort Knox." Sherlock snarked.

"You guessed my password!?"

"Not like it was bloody difficult, John. I mean, c'mon, "Jumpers"? "Jumpers", John, really?" she asked incredulously.

"Stupid. Better change it." John muttered.

"There's no point." Sherlock assured him.

"No. I suppose."

Mel flit about the kitchen, putting things away as best as possible around the human remains and experiments that Sherlock had floating around.

John snatched the computer away and snapped it shut, causing melody to jump slightly. He collapsed in his chair and examined the day's mail. "I need to get a job."

"Oh. Dull!" Sherlock grumbled.

"Yeah. But necessary. If we want to eat actual food this month." He thumbed through a whole stack of red bills, then discarded them. "If you could see your way to lending me some… Sherlock? Did you hear what I said?"

Sherlock jumped up and looked at the pair across the room. "I need go to the bank."

John and Mel exchanged a look before grabbing their jackets, following closely behind their detective.


	16. Friend

Melody looked up at the building as the trio approached it. It was a gigantic cathedral of steel and glass - the most high-tech, garish new building in the city. She was so entranced by the gleaming sign that read: 'SHAD SANDERSON'. Investment Bank., that she began to fall behind. The only thing that snapped her back to the present was a hand gently yet firmly wrapped around her wrist.

"Come along, Miss Hudson. Can't have you wandering off without me. I daresay I would be lost without you." He said with a small smile. She returned the smile, her arm slipping up around his own as they made their way back up to John, who was waiting patiently.

"When you said we were going to the bank..." John trailed off as they walked up the stairs.

Mel gave a small laugh as he looked at her, wide eyed.

They approached a corner office filled with corporate art and chrome and were assured that someone would be there in a moment. They all stood in silence, Melody between the boys with her arm still wrapped firmly around Sherlock's. After about two minutes, a man wearing a rather nice suit. This must have been Sebastian.

"Sherlock Holmes!" The man exclaimed, shaking Sherlock's free hand vigorously.

"Sebastian." The tall brunette replied curtly.

"How are you, buddy? How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"

"This is my friend John Watson. As well as Miss Melody Hudson"

There was a twitch at the corner of Sebastian's mouth as he spoke the next word. "'Friend'?"

John's response was lighting fast, and a bit disheartening. "Colleague."

Sebastian had a grip like a machine vice, causing John to grimace as they shook hands.

He then turned to Melody with a rather scuzzy smile. "And how did a lovely little bird like you end up with old Sherlock here?"

The woman plastered a fake smile on her face as she stuck out her free hand. "I'm Sherlock's friend. His best friend, actually." She said, squeezing the man's hand rather tightly.

Sherlock looked down at her with a mildly shocked expression. While John was quick to correct his relation to Sherlock, Melody seemed eager to prove to others that she and Sherlock were indeed not only friends, but apparently even closer.

"Right. Well then, grab a pew." Sebastian said, motioning to the two chairs.

Mel sat on the arm of the one Sherlock sat in, leaning ever so slightly against him.

A PA appeared at the door, and Sebastian offered them a drink, to which they all declined.

"You're doing well. Spending lots of time abroad." Sherlock mentioned passively.

"Well, some…" the man chuckled.

"Flying all the way round the world. Twice a month!"

Sebastian smiled. 'You're doing that thing." He looked to John with a smirk. "We were at Uni together, and this guy here - he had this trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick." Sherlock and Mel muttered at the same time. She placed a hand on his shoulder and clenched her jaw.

"He could look at you and tell your whole life story."

"Yes, I've seen him do it." John assured him.

"Put the wind up everyone. We hated him. You'd come to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak - he would know who you'd been shagging the previous night."

Melody bristled at the use of her least favorite word. Sherlock simply place a reassuring hand on her knee before speaking. "I simply observed."

Sebastian laughed. "Go on. Enlighten me. 'Two trips a month, flying all round the world'. You're quite right. But how could you tell? Gonna tell 'em there's a stain on my tie - from a type of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?"

"No. I ..."

"Or maybe it's the mud on my shoes ..."

"I was chatting to your Secretary outside. She told me."

Sebastian's arrogant smile faded as he fidgeted in his seat. "I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break in." he said before standing and straightened his clothing. "If you'll all follow me."

They stood and made their way to the busy trading floor. Telephones buzzed, and workers chattered away. Each trader had a personalized name plate, and metal signs suspended from the ceiling delineate the trading groups - Sterling; Dollars; Yen. They reach a darkened corner office with a glass front and stopped.

"Sir William's Office. The bank's former chairman. His room has been left here - like a sort of memorial... An electronic key pad on the door." Sebastian informed him as he opened the door with a swipe card. "Someone broke in here late last night."

"What did they steal?" Melody inquired.

"Nothing. They just left a little message." He flicked on the lights to reveal the room. Inside was an air of sterility. No one ever came in there anymore.

Melody observed, trying to take in as many details as possible. She saw an old a leather-top desk - blotter, pen, and a brass lamp. The man who sat there passed away - but the place had been left, like a morbid memorial of some sort. A gilt-framed oil painting of a grim-faced banker was on the wall behind the desk. The plaque read: 'SIR WILLIAM SHAD. 1944-2009. CHAIRMAN.' But the picture had been vandalized... Someone had drawn a thick line across Sir William's eyes using bright yellow aerosol paint. The paint had dripped leaving a row of yellow tentacles. On the wall below, the artist had left his tag. Unfortunately, it was an illegible scrawl that Melody had no hopes of deciphering.

After observing the room, they made their way back to Sebastian's office. The banker pulled up the CCTV footage from late the night before. It showed a still frame every 60 seconds and lurched from one grainy shot to the next - the portrait just visible in the gloom. Then, miraculously, the paint suddenly appeared. Sebastian froze the picture at '11.34pm', then flicked back to the previous still at '11.33pm'. No paint. Forward again. '11.34pm'. Paint.

"Sixty seconds apart. So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around - then left within a minute."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the screen. "How many ways into that office?"

Sebastian sighed. "That's where this gets really interesting."

They traveled over to Reception where a computer screen sat. "Every door that opens in this bank - it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard. Every toilet."

Sherlock studied the digital display - lines and lines of recorded times. "That door didn't open last night?"

Sebastian shook his head. "There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you. Five figures." He reaches into his pocket and brandished a cheque. "This is only an advance. Tell me how he got in - there's a bigger one on its way."

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes. "I don't need incentives, Sebastian." He said, pulling Melody away with him. The made their way back to the office, where Sherlock took pictures of the vandalized portrait and the tag on the adjacent wall.

Suddenly, he was moving around the trading floor, dodging and weaving in and out of the pillars. She couldn't help but snicker as he practically danced about the office. People stopped work and stared. He appeared to be studying the graffiti from all sorts of different angles. He darted into the office next door to Sir William's. A sign outside it read 'HONG KONG DESK HEAD'. The walls were glass, so when he turned - there was a full, plain view of the painted graffiti.

The tall brunette turned and looked at his female companion with a wide grin. The game was on.


	17. An Unfamiliar Face

Sherlock made his way to the glass lift, John and Melody close behind. Once they were inside the lift, John looked up at Sherlock with a smirk.

"'Two trips around the world this month.' You didn't ask his Secretary. You said that just to irritate him." The shorter man accused.

Mel and Sherlock shared a knowing smile.

"Did you look at his watch?" Sherlock asked.

"His watch?"

"The hands on his watch were correct but the date was wrong. It actually said the day before yesterday."

"Within a month? How'd you know that part?"

"New Rolex." Melody piped in now. "Only came out in February. I was telling Sherlock about them not too long ago. They're bloody nice watches. Expensive." She explained as the lift reached the bottom and opened.

The trio swiftly exited the building trying to dodge through the insane amount of people who were filing in and out.

"You think we should sniff around here a bit longer?" John asked, looking up at the building that towered above them.

"Got everything I need to know already, thanks." Sherlock replied, striding off up the street.

John and Mel exchanged a look, then scuttled after him.

"That graffiti is a message, John. For someone at the bank - working on the trading floor. We find the intended recipient and..."

"He'll to lead us to the person who sent it."

"Obvious."

"Three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?"

Melody's eyes widened as she realized what Sherlock had been doing earlier. "Pillars!"

"What?" John asked in concern, while Sherlock beamed proudly at her.

"The pillars. And the screens. Earlier, Sherlock was fluttering about the office. He looked a bit like a groundhog, but now I know exactly what he was doing. Very few places where you could see the graffiti. That narrows the field considerably. And of course - the message was left at 11.34 last night. That tells us a lot."

"Does it?" John asked Sherlock.

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some people trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." Sherlock confirmed as he reached into his jacket. He had stolen the name sign off a desk. "Not many Van Coon's in the phone book."

Melody hailed a cab and they all climbed in.

As they pulled up to Eddie van Coon's apartment block, Melody silently wondered just how they were going to pull this off. They exited the cab and approached a set of buzzers on the outside of the building, labelled with the names of the tenants. The tabs showed that van Coon lived on the sixth floor. Sherlock rang, but there was no answer. Rang again- still no answer.

"What are we gonna do now, then? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John asked with a sigh.

Melody snickered quietly as Sherlock checked the buzzers. The one directly above Eddie's - seventh floor - was labelled 'WINTLE', but the label was brand new.

"Just moved in." Sherlock finally said.

"What?" John asked.

"Floor above. New label."

John observed the pristine paper label on the buzzer. "Could have just replaced it."

"No one ever does that." He rang the buzzer for the flat on the seventh floor, and a woman's voice answered.

"Hello?"

Sherlock pulled Melody closer and motioned for her to speak to the woman. She looked at him with wide eyes and motioned for him to do it. He sighed and rolled his eyes before smiling and putting on a fake, peppy voice. "Hi. I live in the flat just below you. I don't think we've met."

"No. Well - I've just moved in." the woman explained.

Sherlock cast a victorious glance at John before turning back to the box. "I've actually locked my keys in my flat."

"You want me to buzz you in?"

"Could you? Also- can we use your balcony?"

"What?"

Melody couldn't help but roll her eyes before leaning forward to speak to the woman. "What my darling boyfriend means, is that since he locked our keys in, the easiest way for us to get in will be the balcony."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense."

"Thanks so much, we'll be right up." Mel said before pulling Sherlock and John along by their arms.

Once they made it up, the woman led them to the balcony, where the trio argued over who should go up. In the end, Sherlock was the one to climb over the edge and lower himself down on to van Coon's balcony. He slipped and almost plummeted to his death, causing Melody to gasp and lunge forward to grab him if necessary. Instead, he simply righted his grip and carried on with an elegant smile and a nod, then lowered himself down. Mel and John thanked the woman, then quickly ran out of the flat and down the stairs.

As soon as they arrived, John gave a knock at the door. "Sherlock?" When there was no answer, he knocked again. "Sherlock? You OK? Any time you feel like letting us in..."

A few moments later, Sherlock practically ripped the door open. "Van Coon is dead. His body is on the bed. Melody, would you call Lestrade? I believe we are in need of his services. John, come with me if you would."

Melody felt the blood leave her face and nodded as she pulled out her phone. She was extremely thankful that Sherlock was keeping her away from the body. The phone rang through to Scotland Yard, where she was promptly connected to Greg Lestrade.

"Hello, Greg? Yes, It's Melody Hudson. Look, I'm with Sherlock and we…well…it's difficult to explain. Just get out here as soon as possible. We've found a body." She gave him the address and hung up, quickly making her way into the living room of the flat.

Sherlock came out of the bedroom to meet her, a grim look on his face. "Just look for clues around here and the kitchen. The bedroom is across the way, so I would avoid that." He suggested, subtly reading her. She was nervous and uneasy. Perhaps even a bit disappointed, possibly because they hadn't been able to save the man. But she would be alright as long as she didn't see the body.

She gave him a nod, accompanied by a small smile, then began her search of the kitchen. He watched her intently for a few moments, then turned to see John standing in the doorway of the bedroom with a smug smile on his face. Sherlock merely cleared his throat and nodded at the man.

Before long, the police had arrived, Mel watched them search about the main areas for forensic evidence. She was shocked to say the least, when a younger looking man walked in, an air of authority surrounding him. He zeroed in on her and plastered a tight-lipped smile on his face as he extended a hand out shake. "You must be Melody. Pleasure. If you would lead me to your friends, I would be very grateful." He said quickly as she shook his hand.

She simply nodded in mild shock, then led him to the bedroom. She made eye contact with Sherlock as she approached, trying her hardest not to look at the body on the bed. He raised an eyebrow before he noticed the young detective trailing behind her.

"Ah, Sergeant... We haven't met." Sherlock said, approaching the man.

Dimmock looked at him stone faced, no sign of friendliness. "I know who you are. And I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."

Sherlock glanced over at an obviously uncomfortable Melody as he put the soggy ball of black paper into an evidence bag and handed it over. "I phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way...?" he asked, walking over to Melody and positioning himself to obscure her view of the room. She seemed to relax a bit, but he knew that she was hyper-aware of the corpse that was only feet away.

John walked over and stood on the woman's opposite side, his arm pressed against her own. The contact seemed to help just a bit more.

"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant. It's Detective Inspector. Dimmock." He informed them, before sweeping out again.

Sherlock, Melody, and John all exchanged a tense look before following him.


	18. You Would Be Surprised

**I do not own Sherlock, nor any of it's characters. I only own Melody, and any content not in the Series.**

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." Dimmock announced as he rounded the sofa.

"It does seem the only explanation of the facts." John agreed, nodding his head.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like... but you're just choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." Sherlock contradicted, causing Melody to throw him a cautious glance. They didn't know this new inspector, but she was pretty sure he already disliked Sherlock.

"Like?" the young DI questioned.

"The wound is on the right side of his head."

"And?"

"Van Coon was left-handed, wasn't he?" Melody piped in. Everything in the flat had pointed to that being the case.

Sherlock mimed shooting himself in the right temple with his left hand, trying to give them a visual. "You're correct. Requires a bit of contortion, though."

"Left-handed?" Dimmock questioned.

"I'm amazed you didn't notice. Melody, would you like to share with everyone what you observed when you looked around this flat?" Sherlock asked, causing the other two men to turn and face her.

Her eyes widened, and her face turned beet red as she looked up at the curly-haired detective. "Uhm, right. Well, there are tea stains from the bottom of mugs where he's been resting them on the left arm of that chair. Pad and paper are on the left side of his phone, probably so he could hold it in his right hand and take messages with his left. And the butter knife on the kitchen surface has butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." She said, pointing at each thing as she explained it.

Sherlock simply looked at her with a proud grin on his face. She had caught everything possible. The only other thing was in the bedroom, where she hadn't gone. "Want me to go on?" Sherlock asked, smirking at the Detective Inspector.

John sensed the man's irritation. "Err, no. I think you've covered it."

"I might as well actually. There's only one left on the list since Miss Hudson did such a marvelous job at observing her surroundings. All his expensive, favourite suits on the left side of his wardrobe, because he'd open the left-hand door...Unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of the head. Conclusion: someone broke in and murdered him. Only explanation of all of the facts."

"But the gun..." Dimmock replied in mild confusion.

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened."

"What?"

"Today at the bank. A sort of a warning." John spoke up.

"He fired when his attacker came in." Sherlock continued.

"And the bullet...?" Dimmock pressed.

"Went out the window."

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?"

"Wait for the pathologist's report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun, I guarantee."

"But if his door was locked from the inside... how did the killer get in?"

"Good. You're finally asking the right questions."

With that, Sherlock walked away, leaving John, Mel, and the Detective standing around in an awkward huddle. Mel flashed the Inspector an apologetic smile, before grabbing John's hand and pulling him along so that they could catch up with Sherlock.

In no time at all, the trio had made their way to a very fancy restaurant, where Sebastian was entertaining clients. Sherlock, John, and Melody made their way over to the table, The Consulting Detective leading the way.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant. The table silenced by this odd intrusion."

"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" Seb asked.

Sherlock sat and helped himself to someone's glass of water, causing Melody's jaw to drop. "I don't think this can wait, Seb. Sorry. One of your traders - someone in your office was killed."

"What!?"

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." John said, observing Mel who was still in a mild state of shock.

"Killed?"

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion. Still want me to make an appointment? OK. Would maybe nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Sherlock stated as he stood up.

Sebastian stood and led them to the loos, causing Melody to pause. Sherlock turned to look at her with a frown. "If you want to, err, wait here…"

Mel shook her head. "I'll just meet you boys at the flat. I've gotta meet Mycroft anyways. Don't get into too much trouble without me." She chuckled, waving as she walked towards the exit of the restaurant.

She looked down at her phone and sighed as she dialed Mycroft's number. As soon as he picked up, she spoke. "How long until your nearest car can come get me?"

"Three minutes. Tea and biscuits? Or shall I prepare something a bit heavier?"

"I've yet to eat dinner. Maybe just a sandwich?" she suggested.

"It will be waiting. Safe travels."

"See you soon."

True to his word, a familiar, sleek, black car pulled up three minutes later, and she slid into the back seat.

She greeted the driver and sat in silence as they made their way to Mycroft's personal residence. Upon arrival, she thanked the man and walked up to the entrance. The door opened to reveal Mycroft in his usual suit and tie. He had a warm smile on his face, and Melody smiled brightly back.

"Hello Croft. You look like you've lost weight." She said as she entered his home and slid her shoes off.

He closed the door, leading her to the kitchen, where two plates of food sat. "Five pounds, thank you for noticing." He said as he slid her plate to her.

Mycroft and Melody had an unconventional relationship. He generally held no type of sentiment for anyone other than his family, but Melody had managed to wear him down over the years. She had wormed her way into the heart of each member of the Holmes family, which was not an easy feat. She tucked into her food before, looking up at him and sighing.

"We've started on a new case, as I'm sure you know. He's not doing anything terribly detrimental to his health, although I do wish he would eat a bit more often. This is going to be a tough case though. A lot of legwork, I'm sure." She sighed.

Mycroft read her as she picked at the sandwich on her plate. She wasn't sleeping very well, but it was better than a few weeks ago. She hadn't bothered brushing her hair that morning, but her clothes were freshly laundered. She probably just didn't want to deal with it that morning. He knew that she had been out with Sherlock all day, so she was rather tired.

"Well, I do hope you'll continue to keep an eye on my dear little brother. You know, ever since you began to grace him with your company, he seems to be much less bothersome. I suppose I should thank you for that. Perhaps once he admits that he has…feelings for you, I daresay he'll even become tolerable." The man said with a raised brow.

Mel choked on her food and looked at him with wide eyes. "Croft, I assure you, Sherlock does not have feelings for me. He's said more than once that sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. He would laugh in my face if he ever found out that I told you I had feelings for him." She said, the words coming out in a rushed jumble.

Mycroft simply raised his brow. "I think you'd be surprised to know just what goes on in our dear Sherlock's head, young Melody. It just may change your perception on things." He said knowingly. "By the way, mummy phoned earlier. She's asked me to have you call her soon. Something about getting together for lunch soon I believe."

It would never fail to amaze him just how engrained the woman in front of him had become in the lives of his family. And he had a feeling that her connection was only going to get deeper in the weeks to come.

After a few ours of discussing cases and what Sherlock's latest experiments were, Melody had finally started to show signs of fatigue. So, with a stiff hug and a promise to keep him updated, Melody and Mycroft traveled out to the car. He opened the door, allowing her to slide in the back seat. "Take her home." He told his driver, watching as they made their way to Baker Street.

 **/AN- Another chapter down! I really wanted to give you guys a little insight into the relationship between Mel and Mycroft. Let me know what you guys thing in the comments below! Please be sure to vote if you're enjoying this. Much love, xoxx-Tiff\\\\\**


	19. Just Listen

Melody woke up the next morning, thankful to have gotten a good night of sleep. It was rare, and therefore extremely valuable to her. She got out of bed and traipsed through the flat towards the kitchen, where her mother sat with a cuppa. Mel kissed the top of her mum's head and smiled.

"Good morning. Sleep well?" she asked as she opened the cabinet and retrieved a glass. She poured a glass of water and sat down at the table.

"I did." Mrs. Hudson replied with a warm smile. After a moment of silence, she looked at her daughter with a small smile. "You know, Sherlock was down here about an hour ago. I told him you were still asleep. You may want to go see what he was wanting, it seemed a bit important."

Mel was mildly surprised to hear that that Sherlock had been to the flat for her, but she simply brushed it off. He probably just wanted to know what she and Mycroft had talked about. She smiled and stood from her seat. "Thanks, Mum. I'll get ready and go up there to see what he needed." She said, before heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

As soon as she had showered and gotten cleaned up and gotten ready, she made her way up to 221 B and knocked before entering. Sherlock was sprawled in his armchair, obviously in his mind palace. She looked to see that he had printed off his photos of the graffiti - the blindfold and the tag. He had stuck them to the mirror above the fireplace and was staring at them in a trance – as if he was hoping their meaning would suddenly leap out at him. She simply chuckled before sitting in John's chair and picking up the book that she kept on the stand. She sat in comfortable silence as she read, occasionally glancing up at Sherlock.

About thirty minutes had passed when John walked in, the door slamming behind him. She looked up to see that he appeared pink and cheerful.

"I said could you pass me a pen?" Sherlock said, pulling their attention to him.

Melody raised a brow as she looked at him. "When did you ask that?"

Sherlock looked up at the girl, seeming a bit shocked that she was sitting there. "About an hour ago. I asked John to pass me a pen."

"Didn't notice I'd gone out, then?" John chuckled, refusing to let his good mood be shattered. He tossed Sherlock a pen before looking over at Melody. "I went to see about a job at that surgery you told me."

"Oh! How was it?" She asked, placing the book to the side.

"Great. She's great."

Melody smirked at his slip, and Sherlock looked at him in mild amusement.

"Who?" Sherlock questioned.

"The job." John replied in slight confusion. He hadn't realized his mistake.

"You said she, John." Mel said with a smile.

"It." John corrected, his face turning a dark pink.

"Here. Have a look." Sherlock said, pulling their attention back to him as he pointed to the open laptop on the desk.

Mel and John walked over to see that the page was opened on the webpage of a news story.

"'The intruder who can walk through walls'." John read aloud.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his apartment. Door locked. Windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon."

"God. You think...?"

"He's killed another one."

Melody sighed as she turned and leaned against the work desk. "Bloody hell."

"I suppose we should phone Dimmock to inform him we're on our way." John said, pulling out his mobile and stepping from the room.

Sherlock nodded, standing up. "Yes, I suppose so."

Mel looked up at the man and fidgeted with her hands. "Mum said you were asking for me this morning. Was there something you needed?" she asked.

He turned to look at her, his mouth opening to say something until John walked in.

"Right, we ready?" the shorter man asked.

Sherlock turned to look at him with an annoyed expression, then turned to Mel and sighed. "We'll discuss it later." He said before grabbing his coat from the hook and making his way downstairs.

John looked at Melody, who simply shrugged and shook her head before following the Consulting Detective.

They made it to the office after a rather tense cab ride, and currently sat around Dimmock's desk. The man was surrounded by a sea of paperwork blown by whirring fans. Sherlock used the Inspector's computer to find the TIMESONLINE headline he had pulled up earlier.

"Brian Lukis. Journalist. Freelance. Murdered in his flat. The door locked from the inside." Sherlock summed up the article.

"You've got admit it's similar. Both men killed by someone who can walk through solid walls!" John reasoned.

Dimmock looked around, suspecting all the other police were looking, smirking, gossiping. It was obvious he wasn't going to budge.

"Inspector? Do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another city suicide?" Mel implored the man. He looked at her, but still offered no response.

"You checked with ballistics, I suppose?" Sherlock questioned, finally earning a nod. "And? The shot that killed him wasn't from his own gun."

"No." Dimmock stated bluntly.

"No. So. This investigation might move a bit quicker if you took my word as gospel."

Dimmock couldn't believe the arrogance of the man and looked between John and Melody.

"He makes everyone feel like that." John assured him.

"I've just handed you a murder enquiry. We might have a serial killer. Five minutes in that flat." Sherlock said, turning on his heel and leaving.

Melody looked at Dimmock and sighed. "I know you don't like him very much. And he can be a bit of a prat if you don't know him well. But trust me when I say that Sherlock Holmes is the best chance you have of solving this case. Just listen to him. Give him a chance, and I promise you won't regret it."

She took John's arm and pulled him along to find Sherlock. Dimmock ran a hand through his hair and sighed, before standing and following behind them.

As soon as they made it to Lukis' flat, Mel noticed how dusty, dirty, and chaotic the place was. They ducked under the police tape across the door and were faced with mountains of books. In the corner of the room, there was an open suitcase - empty. Unzipped - recently used.

John cast an eye over the dead man's desk, noting the pages and pages of handwritten notes and books on South-East Asian politics. Lukis had clearly been researching an article.

Sherlock looked out the window, Melody by his side. "Fourth floor. That's why they think they're safe. Put the chain on the door, bolt it shut. They think they're impregnable." The man practically scoffed.

He tried the windows, but they were all bolted shut. Then he looked up at the skylight and smirked. "They never consider for a moment - there's another way in here."

Melody followed his gaze and gasped quietly in understanding.

"I don't understand." Dimmock said, looking up.

Sherlock reached for the broom, which Mel handed over to him. He grabbed a table, balanced a chair on it, and climbed up on the structure, broom in hand. Melody stood, poised to act should something happen.

"What are you doing?" the inspector questioned.

"We're dealing with a killer who can climb." Melody explained.

"What?!"

"He can cling to walls like an insect. That's how he gets in." Mel explained as Sherlock lifted the broom up high and nudged the skylight. It opened with ease.

"He climbed up the side of this building, ran across the roof and dropped in through the skylight." Sherlock said as he handed the broom back down to Mel.

"You're not serious?" Dimmock said incredulously.

"Scaled a sixth-floor balcony in Docklands to kill Van Coon. Of course, he got into the bank the same way. Across the window ledge and on to the terrace." Sherlock jumped down from the table and chair. "We have to find out what connects these two men."

Melody thumbed through the books on the desk, noting that the top one was marked with the words 'WEST KENSINGTON LIBRARY', a stamped date, and a little crest. "Sherlock, I think I found something." She said over her shoulder, picking up the book and showing it to him.

"Me, too." John said as he stared at the detritus on the floor. They all turned to see a small, scrunched up ball of black paper that had been trodden into the carpet. It was meticulously folded up into a lotus.


	20. Pursuit of Happiness

Melody had declined going to the library, choosing instead to go back to the flat and do a bit of research. The symbols they had found were really bothering her, and she was determined to find out just what they meant. The group parted ways and went to their destinations, a particular goal in mind.

When Melody arrived at the flat, she grabbed John's laptop, dragged Sherlock's chair to the window where she could get some natural light, and typed in the password, then opened the browser, trying to find a match to the symbols. Nearly an hour and a half later, Sherlock walked in to see that she had made a collage - pages and pages printed off the internet. Upon closer inspection, he could see that there were pictures of language systems and archaic symbols. Egyptian hieroglyphics; the Greek alphabet; Hebrew letters; Arabic letters; Chinese words... she'd stuck them all around the edge of the mirror, trying to find a match for the strange yellow squiggle.

"Nothing fits. The tag is too messy - it defies interpretation." Melody grumbled to herself, her nose stuck in the laptop, eyes glued to the screen. She hadn't noticed him yet, and he used the moment to get a closer look at the pictures. He had Raz on the lookout for any more of the paint around town, and with Melody's work, maybe they could figure the mystery out just a little quicker.

"How long did this take you?" Sherlock asked, looking over her shoulder at the laptop screen.

She jumped and gasped, nearly knocking the laptop from her lap. She looked up at him, a hand over her now racing heart. "Maybe twenty minutes? This has just been bothering me since we saw it. These damn yellow symbols are gonna haunt my dreams." She said with a frown. She noticed that John was nowhere to be seen, but figured he had other things to attend to.

Sherlock chuckled deeply, shutting the laptop and taking it from her. "Let me help. I have some books on runes that may be of use." He offered.

He took her hand and helped her stand up, smiling down at her. She had at some point put her hair up in a bun, but it was now falling out in places, framing her face. She was beautiful, he couldn't deny it. Quite probably the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He wasn't quite sure how to deal with the things that he was feeling, but he knew that whatever they were, he wanted to figure them out with her.

"Do I have drool on my face or something?" Mel asked, worriedly wiping her mouth with her free hand.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just, eh, you look beautiful." He admitted quietly.

Melody looked up at him with wide eyes, her jaw slightly dropped. Had he really just called her beautiful? The man who distanced himself from anything as trivial or silly as emotion or traditional beauty standards. Her face turned a shade of red that rivaled a strawberry, and she averted her gaze.

"Thank you." She said quietly.

Sherlock put two fingers under her chin and pulled her face up, so that her eyes met his again. "Melody, I am not sure how to describe what I am feeling right now, but I would very much like to try and show you." He said, noting how her heartrate had sped up exponentially.

Melody couldn't even manage a sentence. Instead, she stood with her heartbeat pounding in her ears, lips slightly parted, and mind in a haze. She merely nodded at the man in front of her.

Sherlock slowly and cautiously leaned down and gently pressed his lips against her own in a soft, sweet kiss. The kiss lasted barely ten seconds before they broke apart and looked into each other's eyes in a state of mild shock.

"Wow." Melody said quietly, the word barely audible as it passed her lips in a breath.

Sherlock simply looked down at her, his own heartrate now skyrocketing, the feeling of her lips lingering on his own. "That was…new. Not bad. I would, if you are interested as well, like to pursue these feelings further."

"You mean like dating?" she asked, trying not to show her surprise.

"Yes, I suppose so. Of course, only if you want that."

"Yeah! I mean, yes. I would. Like that…very much" she said, fumbling through her sentence.

Sherlock chuckled and squeezed her hand, before stepping over to the bookshelf. "Well then, now that we've settled that, lets get to the symbols, yes?"

Mel smiled widely and nodded. "Yes."

Two hours later, Sherlock sat at the desk, and Mel was back in his chair at the window.

John opened the door, quietly furious, not paying attention to the pair.

"You've been a while." Sherlock said without looking up from his book.

"Yeah, well you know how it is... Custody Sergeants don't like to be hurried, do they? Just formalities. Finger prints; a charge sheet. And I'll have to be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday..." John said, rather steamed.

Melody turned with wide eyes to look at the man. "What?!"

"Me. In court on Tuesday. They're giving me an ASBO. Criminal damage."

"Good. Fine." Sherlock said, still not really listening.

"You want to tell your little pal: he's welcome to go and own up, anytime..."

"Christ, I leave you boys alone for a few hours and you manage to become a full-blown criminal." Melody grumbled, looking at John with a frown.

"This symbol - I still can't place it. I want you to go to the police station. Ask about the journalist..." Sherlock said, walking over to John who was attempting to take off his coat. "All his personal effects will be impounded. Get hold of a diary - or something that will tell us his movements..." He said as he pushed him out of the door.

"Melody grab a coat and come along, darling. We've got a bit of legwork ahead of us." Sherlock said, grabbing his own coat.

As soon as he was out of earshot, she began mumbling to herself. "I knew it. What did I tell Croft? Legwork."

They made their way out the front door - John still only half-wearing his coat, and Melody pulling hers on.

"We'll go and see Van Coon's PA. If we can retrace their steps, somewhere they're going to coincide." Sherlock said as he grabbed Mel's hand and took off running up the street.

John was left alone, yet again. He sighed and acquiesced, hailing a cab.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was dragging Melody across London, making the woman wonder why on earth they couldn't have just taken a cab to Van Coon's office. Once they arrived, Sherlock stopped long enough to let Mel fix her hair and clothes before they headed inside.

 **A.N.- FINALLY. They are together! Let me know what you all think about this chapter! Xoxx-Tiff**


	21. Details

Melody and Sherlock stood in Van Coon's office, looking around in hopes of finding some sort of clue. Eddie's desk was as sparse as his flat, with no personal items, just a few magazines, and a London A to Z on the corner of the desk. Eddie's PA, Amanda is with them, punching passwords into Eddie's computer. Her hair was fastened back with a little green hair pin, which Melody admired. It was unique and looked quite nice. A gift perhaps?

Eddie's calendar popped up, drawing Mel's attention away from the pin. A note in the calendar said 'DALIAN' - marking a trip lasting three days.

"Flew back from Dalian, Friday. Looks like he had back to back meetings with the sales team." Amanda said as she pressed 'Print' - making a copy of the diary for pair.

"What about the day he died? Can you tell me where he was?" the Detective questioned.

"Sorry. There's a bit of a gap."

On the computer screen there was a large blank space in an otherwise crowded diary.

Amanda's face suddenly lit up - an idea! "I've got all his receipts!"

Dimmock rooted through a file of evidence, John standing silently behind him.

"Your friend..." the Inspector started.

"Hey - whatever you say - I'm a hundred per cent behind you." John assured him.

"He's an arrogant sod."

"Oh. That was mild. People say a lot worse than that."

"Yeah, well, I've decided to take the advice of your friend and give him a chance."

"Yeah, well, Lestrade is used to him."

"No, not Lestrade. The girl. Sherlock's girlfriend. She said to give him a chance and God help me, I trust her. She seems like she keeps him in check." Dimmock said as he offered John a pocket diary. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? The journalist's diary."

John took it and opens it to see an aeroplane ticket tucked inside with the airport name printed in all caps: 'DALIAN'.

Sherlock, Melody, and Amanda stood staring at Eddie's receipts for the week, which were spread across the desk. Taxis; meals; buses; trains-everything was there. Sherlock stared - trying to get a sense of the man's life. Posh restaurants, countless expensive bar bills, new suits, Eddie Van Coon seemed to spare no expense.

"What sort of boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?"

A wry smile appeared on her face at the question. "Err... no. I don't think that's the word I would use. The only things that Eddie appreciated had a big price tag."

"Like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didn't he?"

Amanda seemed utterly disconcerted by this.

Melody shuffled the receipts around like a card game, trying to get them in order.

"Look there. He took a cab from home the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty." Sherlock noticed, pointing to a particular receipt.

"That would get him into the office."

"It wasn't rush hour. Check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as..."

"The West End! I remember him saying."

Mel found a train ticket amongst the receipts. "Underground. Printed at one. In Piccadilly."

"So, he took a tube back to the office." There was a beat as they pondered. "Why would he take a cab into town - and then the tube back?"

"He was delivering something heavy." Sherlock suggested. "Don't want to lug a package up the escalators."

"Delivering?"

"To somewhere near Piccadilly station. Left his package and walked back to the tube."

Melody picked up a receipt from the pile for a sandwich shop and smiled.

"Look at this one. He stopped on his way. He got hungry. He got sloppy."

Forty-five minutes later, Sherlock and Melody stood outside the sandwich shop from Van Coon's receipt.

"So. Bought your lunch. En route to the station. Where were you headed from? Where did the cab drop you off?" Sherlock said as he looked around. Suddenly, he turned 180 degrees and walked away from Piccadilly.

Melody took it in stride and followed right behind him, typing out a text as they walked along. Sherlock was so busy looking at the shops on this street, he collided with someone on the pavement. Melody slammed into his back nearly falling on her ass, had it not been for Sherlock's hand shooting back to catch her arm. She righted herself and looked around him to see John.

"Van Coon brought a package here the day he died." Sherlock excitedly explained to him. "Whatever was hidden inside that suitcase. I've managed to piece together his movements using scraps of information..."

"Sherlock..." John tried to interrupt, but Sherlock was already in full swing.

"... credit card bills and receipts. He flew back from China and came here."

"Sherlock..."

"Somewhere in this street. Somewhere close. I don't know where."

"That shop over there." John said, pointing.

"How can you tell?"

"Lukis' diary. He was here. He wrote down the address."

"Oh."

They crossed the street to the shop- an old Chinese Emporium called The Lucky Cat. The golden cat in the window waved at them, classical ceramic figures on display, paper lanterns, Chinese fans and sashes were strung around the door. They went in to see that the inside of the shop was tiny, dingy, and dirty. There was a fluorescent glow, and a layer of dust over everything.

The shopkeeper was an old lady in dark glasses, who was sitting on a stool behind the counter. The radio played what sounded like a Chinese news station in the background. On the shelves were row after row of statuettes - Buddhas and geishas and classical warriors made of cheap stoneware with green and ochre glaze.

The smell of incense burning enticed Melody's senses as she observed a dish of oranges which were covered in dust. Her nose wrinkled, before she turned and observed the lucky Chinese cats with waving paws that seemed to be everywhere, moving in hypnotic unison. All the items were labelled with prices in Chinese.

Sherlock lifted a small stone figurine to expose a small square in the thick layer of dust, proving his thought that no one had shopped there in quite some time.

The shopkeeper decided that John was an eager customer and stood up. "You want Lucky Cat...?"

"Err, no thanks. No." John replied awkwardly.

She lifted a lucky cat from the shelf.

"Ten pound. Ten pound. I think your wife she will like."

Melody looked up at John with a smirk, snickering quietly at his discomfort. Just then, something caught her eye.

"Sherlock, look... On the label there..." she said, capturing his attention.

"I see it." He confirmed, staring at the prices scrawled on the little tickets.

"The symbol." John mused.

They all exchanged a look before jetting outside. The trio perused the shop windows, noticing the same symbols appearing again and again. Price tags at the deli, the blackboard outside the grocers, the Chinese numbers were everywhere, all similar to the tag.

Sherlock slaps his head - how did he miss this!? "It's an ancient number system - Hang Zhou. These days only street traders use it."

The Chinese grocer also displayed the prices in 'regular' numerals, so Melody was quick to translate on the spot. She examined his price tags, scrambling to find a match. "They were numbers! The tags were numbers in an ancient Chinese dialect!" She exclaimed.

"It's a '15'. Look. Just here!" John said, pointing to the symbol. "What we thought was the artist's tag - it's a number '15'."

"And the blindfold. The horizontal line. It's a number as well. It's the Chinese number '1', John!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"We've found it."

While John apologized to the now disgruntled shopkeeper, Melody looked up at Sherlock with new hope and excitement in her eyes. His own eyes shimmered the same way as they exchanged smiles, none of them noticing the woman across the street taking pictures of their moment.


	22. Messages

The trio sat across the road from The Lucky Cat at a dingy little cafe in plastic chairs, around a small table. Melody blew the steam from the cup of coffee she had ordered. The waitress, a kind young woman, dropped off a muffin and smiled. "The muffin is on me. It's been a long time since I've had a customer so genuinely delightful to serve."

Melody looked up at her with wide eyes and smiled brightly. "Oh, goodness. Thank you so much!" She said in excitement, feeling flattered. The waitress walked away with a nod and a smile.

Sherlock watched the exchange with a half smile, before scribbling '1' and '15' on the back of a serviette.

"Two men travel back from China. They both come straight to the Lucky Cat Emporium. What did they see?" John questioned.

"It's not what they saw. It's what they brought with them in those suitcases." Sherlock replied simply.

"You don't mean duty free."John followed his line of reasoning perfectly.

"Precisely." Melody mumbled through a mouthful of muffin.

The young woman brought their food - a sausage sandwich for John, and a grilled chicken croissant for Mel. They waited for her to go before continuing their conversation.

"Think about what Sebastian told us. About Van Coon; about how he kept afloat in the market." Sherlock reminded them.

"Lost five million..." John remembered suddenly.

"Made it back a week later. This is how he made such easy money..." Sherlock explained.

"He was a smuggler." Mel said simply. "A guy like him - he would have been perfect for it. A businessman who took regular trips to Asia? Who would ever suspect?"

"And Lukis too - a journalist, writing about China. They smuggled something out. The Lucky Cat was the drop off." Sherlock confirmed.

"Why did they die? It doesn't make sense... If they both turned up at the shop and delivered the goods... why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event? After they'd finished the job?" John asked the pair.

There was a moment of silence as they pondered.

"What if one of them was light-fingered?" Sherlock mused.

"How d'you mean?" John asked in confusion.

"One of them stole something, something from the hoard."

Melody realised what Sherlock meant, and gasped in excitement. "The killer doesn't know which one of them took it! So he threatens them both." She exclaimed.

It seemed, however, that Sherlock was no longer listening. He was staring out of the window across the street. "Remind me: when was the last time it rained?" He said, seeming a bit preoccupied.

"I believe Monday. Why?" Mel asked.

"I believe it's time to pay a visit to Soo Lin's apartment."

Melody got a to go bag for her and John's remaining food, and tipped the kind waitress generously. Once she finished, they walked to the door outside The Lucky Cat. Sherlock examined the door to the flat above. The bell said 'SOO LIN YAO'.

Mel noticed that telephone directory on the doorstep was still in its little plastic bag, which was torn at the corner. The directory wass standing on end, leaning against the door. If someone had opened the door it would have moved, but it was still perfectly placed.

Mel pointed it out to Sherlock, who ripped the bag open - showing that the pages were swollen with rain water.

"That's been on the step since Monday." He confirmed. He rang the doorbell No response. "Noone's been in this flat for at least three days."

Sherlock suddenly darted down the side of the building into a side alley, leaving Mel and John scuttling after.

"They're away on holiday. So what?" John asked.

"Do you leave your windows open when you go away?" Melody asked, looking up.

The boys looked up to see that the window of the flat was gaping wide open. There was scaffolding at the back of the flats that allowed entrance to the window.

Sherlock jumped up on a dustbin, hauling himself up on the scaffolding. He reached the windows of the first floor flat, Mel looking up at him with wide eyes. He jumped inside the window, causing John to hiss his name.

"Moron." Melody snickered. There was no way she could jump up there, she was only a few inces taller than John. So it looked like the pair was grounded while Sherlock explored the flat.

They walked around front, and John rang the doorbell. He bent down to shout through the letterbox. "You think maybe you could let me in this time?"

Melody snorted loudly.

Sherlock didn't answer.

"Oh for heaven's sake." John muttered. "Can you not keep doing this, please?" He called.

"I'm not the first." Sherlock's voice was muffled by the door.

"What?" Mel called.

"Someone else has been here. Someone broke into this flat. He knocked that vase, just like I did."

Mel and John looked at eachother in confusion. "What on earth?" John mumbled.

"Size eleven. He was tall. But not heavy." Sherlock continued. "Long, thin fingers. Our acrobat."

"What are you saying? You're muffled, darling." Mel called.

No response. Everything was silent.

"Any time you want to include us, that would be great." John yelled.

Again, no answer.

"I'm obviously wasting my breath. 'I'm Sherlock, and I always work alone because no one else can compete with my massive intellect!'" John shouted through the mail slot.

"Oi!" Melody said indignantly.

"My apologies, sometimes Melody is acceptable to work with." He added.

"Better." Mel approved.

The door opened suddenly to reveal a mildly disheveled Sherlock. "The milk's out of date. And the washing - it's started to smell. Someone left here in a hurry. Three days ago." Sherlock explained in a hoarse voice that he definitely didn't have a few minutes ago.

"Someone?" John questioned.

Sherlock pointed to the name on the bell. "Soo Lin Yao. We need to find her."

"How exactly?"

"Start with this." Melody said as she picked a note up off the doormat. It read: 'SOO LIN. PLEASE RING ME, TELL ME YOU'RE OK. ANDY.'.

She turned the paper over, revealing that it was an old envelope from the National Antiquities Museum.

"Off we pop." Sherlock announced, grabbing Mel's hand and dragging her along.

"You sound croaky. Are you getting a cold?" John asked him as they walked.

"It's nothing."Sherlock brushed off causing his two companions to exchange dubious glances.


End file.
